Devils of the Order
by RisingPhoenix7
Summary: Original idea by Remuslupinlover50. Dropped into a world of witchcraft and wizardry, the Devil Hunters find themselves in the company of new allies...and new foes as well... Chapter 4 of the unusually-titled "Dimensional Devil Saga".
1. Chapter 1: The Heroes From Nowhere

**Devils of the Order**

(original concept/input by Remuslupinlover50)

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, plus the universe they reside in, belong to J.K. Rowling (and the movies to Warner Bros.). All Devil May Cry characters (minus the OCs) are property of Capcom.

Summary: After escaping Raccoon City, the Devil Hunters have been brought to a world with sorcery and secrets. After battling their way through a city of undead, they have been thrust into a different kind of war...

Rating: T

 **Spoilers** for Bleach May Cry and Resident DEvil 1/2 from here onward.

The Story So Far...: Pulled from their own world without warning by a strange man (later calling himself Mar), the Devil Hunters (Dante, Lady, Nero and Kyrie) were thrown into a universe where Ichigo Kurosaki and his friends lived. Caught up in a brewing conflict, they were enlisted to help defend a small town from Hollows; and later, to save a Soul Reaper from execution. Though they were successful, the one behind an old conspiracy escaped, and they were soon removed from that world directly into another.

The next world had them exploring Spencer Mansion on the outskirts of Raccoon City, teaming up with S.T.A.R.S. members Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, Barry Burton, and Rebecca Chambers to help them escape. In the process, they saved the life of Enrico Marini, something unforeseen by the sorcerer transporting them to different worlds.

Their next trip brought them into the near future of the same world, to a Raccoon City overrun by zombies and mutated creatures. They accompanied Officer Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield in an effort to rescue and evacuate survivors, escaping aboard a train with them, Umbrella ex-employee Annette Birkin, and her daughter Sherry. Prior to them being spirited away once more, Mar gives them a hint that his actions are working toward a particular goal, but their conversation is cut off as he teleports them once more...

Author's Intro: My favourite game series, crossed over with my favourite book series. What more can I say except "hope you enjoy"?

Chapter 1: The Heroes From Nowhere

"If you or your 'bosses' are working with demons, I-"

And then he had vanished from that universe, along with his companions…

* * *

"-swear I'll kill you all!" Dante snapped as all four of them fell onto a hard, wooden surface. He winced slightly at the surprise impact, but sighed and opened his eyes, no worse for wear. And when his eyes opened, they continued to open further.

From the looks of things, they were facing a group of seven people in differently-coloured robes. All were looking at them with the utmost sense of shock, each with a thin piece of wood in their hands. Well, introductions were in order, weren't they? "Hi!" he said cheerfully.

Chaos erupted. Jets of red light burst from every person's hands around them. Dante quickly assessed the situation as best he could in the milliseconds he had before the spells hit; they were all normal humans (but what was up with all the red light?) and didn't seem to be trying to kill them. But whatever they'd stumbled into must have been important. He could fight back, which would certainly injure or kill them, or he could weather whatever they threw at him, smile, and start talking.

 _The stuff I go through to help people…_ he thought as he curled his arms inward defensively. There was no time to summon anything; he'd just have to take the hits and start explaining afterwards. The streams of red light collided with him, and then everything went black.

Nero, meanwhile, had Ascalon in hand. He split his shield up, curling the halves around Lady, Kyrie, and himself the best he could, the red lights bouncing off at strange angles… "Wait, wait! Hold your fire!" he yelled.

The jets of light ceased. He peeked over the top of his shields, seeing the people in robes staring back past their wands (those _had_ to be magic wands). He took a deep breath, trying to calm down before his battle lust took over. "We're not here to fight. Can we talk?"

"Didn't one of you just say you were going to kill us all?" one responded in a Southern English accent.

 _What, Brits? Where did we get dropped this time?_ "Bad timing. He was talking about someone else." Nobody moved. "Look, we don't know where we are, and it'd be nice to sit down. Do you mind?"

A man with a flowing white beard peered at him curiously. Slowly, he lowered his wand. "Albus!" one of the others hissed.

The older man smiled. "What sort of enemy would break into our headquarters and then ask to talk? Also…" His eyes, strangely, seemed to twinkle slightly. "I'm curious."

None of the people seemed to feel the same as him, but they lowered their wands all the same. Nero responded in kind, lowering his guard, Ascalon disappearing in a flash of golden light. He looked down at Dante; he wasn't moving. Nero crouched down to check him.

"Is he…?" Lady began.

Nero let out a sigh of relief as he felt a pulse. "He's all right. Out cold, though." He looked up at the…well, witches or wizards or whatever they were. "What'd you guys do to him?"

"Stunning Spell." The terse reply came from a man with a crooked nose and greasy black hair. Something about the man made Nero uncomfortable, but he couldn't place it. "To think he could withstand so many at once…"

Lady cleared her throat, and they all turned to her. "Well, whatever we're doing, let's get off this table. And wake him up, so we don't have to do this twice."

Twenty minutes later, after Dante had been revived and they'd all sat down to the table to fill each other in (courtesy of the man named Albus conjuring chairs out of thin air), Lady was rubbing her temples in exasperation, Nero was looking as if he was trying to solve some sort of logical puzzle, Dante had his arms folded and was looking surly, and Kyrie was smiling to herself.

"You expect us to believe such absurdity?" Snape (the man with greasy black hair) said doubtfully. "Other worlds? Hunting demons? Wandless magic?"

"It's. The. Truth," Lady repeated for what must have been the fifth time. "Not like your story's any easier to swallow."

"It has its own logic," Kyrie muttered. "A community of magic-capable people, with their own schools, jobs, and crimes; naturally there would be bad people among them."

"Our story's got logic, though," Nero commented. "If demons exist, someone has to hunt them down. …The guy that randomly warps us around's kinda hard to work in, but we don't know much about that guy either."

"Well," another man, Sturgis Podmore, said. "We _can_ travel distances instantly using magic. We call it Apparating. Maybe he's a wizard?"

The four digested this information, considering the possibility. Could they have stumbled upon his home world? "Do you think that's how we got here?" Lady muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

"Can't be. This house is protected against that sort of thing." He gave a grin. "But here you are."

"If I'm getting this all right," Dante said suddenly, "you Order of the Phoenix people…you're the good guys, and this guy what's-his-face…"

"Voldemort," Albus Dumbledore supplied, and everyone around the table seemed to tense.

"Yeah, Old Mort. He's tryin' to ruin everything and set up his own insane kingdom. And you're tossing as many wrenches in his plans as you can spare." This story was starting to sound familiar.

"A…limited summary, but accurate," Dumbledore allowed.

He sighed. "You know something?" And then his face split into an enormous grin. "It's your lucky day!" They looked back at him, surprised and confused. "We'll take the job. And I'll even give you a discount." His face suddenly became very somber. "But there's one more thing we need to talk about. The most important thing."

None of them responded for a while, until finally, another man with long black hair asked. "Which is?"

Dante looked him square in the eye. Neither blinked for several seconds. And then…

"…You got anything to eat?" the Devil Hunter asked, Lady's stomach rumbling beside him.

And so, the man with black hair busied himself around the kitchen, an impromptu dinner ready in a matter of minutes. The food wasn't anything fancy, but there was quite a bit of it (understandable, if this place was a headquarters). Having built up a very large appetite from their last two adventures, the four thanked him and ate eagerly.

Eating the meal was…weird. Even by the standards of someone who refused to let trifles like scythe blades through the chest ruin his chance to finish off a perfectly good pizza.

Nero couldn't help but notice that their "hosts" kept shooting them looks like they might suddenly explode. Odd attitude for them to take, given how much this place was supposedly protected. Though…having his arms looking like they did, it didn't surprise him. _Wonder if there are any Devil Arms here, too…_

Lady had an inkling about what their new allies were worried about…might have been the rocket launcher carried on her back. This was England, after all. …Supposedly. _If we've been brought here, something's going to change. But what?_

Kyrie thought over their discussion, wondering why they'd been brought to this world. Was it to defeat this "Voldemort" person? Or were they intended for some other purpose? _If it's like before…are we supposed to battle demons again? But what is my purpose this time?_

Dante ignored everyone, only caring about eating. With two sleepless nights and nearly a full day in total time they'd spent in the last two places, he'd built up quite the appetite. The stuff wasn't pizza, true, but you didn't eat your favorite food every day. If you did, you'd just get tired of it. …Or so Trish kept grumbling at him every time the delivery bike dropped off two boxes of piping hot pizza at the shop. _Trish…I kinda miss her. She can take care of the shop and everything, sure, but being away this long…_ He eyed his chicken, an odd feeling settling into his stomach that had nothing to do with food. _Sure do miss the place…_

"There's something I'd like to know," the man who had prepared the meal said. "This magic that you say you can do; how does it work?"

Dante swallowed, looking at him. "Don't think we got your name."

"Sirius. I'm the one that…well, owns the place you're in."

Dante gave an acknowledging nod. "Fair enough." With a brief flash of light, Cerberus appeared in his left hand. He pointed one of the flails at the ground, and an icicle formed out of the ground immediately. The wizards looked at it with varying degrees of caution and wonder. He stuffed the Devil Arm back into his coat, and the ice shattered, melting completely in only a second.

Sirius was looking intrigued. "Interesting…"

"Could've made a bigger one, but I didn't wanna trash your house."

He chuckled. "Much appreciated. Well, here." He pointed his wand into Dante's empty glass, and wine began to pour from the wand until the glass was full.

Dante's eyebrows rose. "Whoa…now that's handy. What's the occasion?"

He gave the Devil Hunter a disbelieving smirk. "To new friends, I suppose?"

The man in red grinned. "Hey, I'll drink to that." He raised his glass. "To new friends!" And to Sirius's bemusement, he downed it in one gulp. "Mind getting me a refill? Got four other new friends to toast."

Sirius gave a loud bark of laughter.

After the meal, they were told to get some rest, and then they could discuss what to do tomorrow. Lady had no arguments; sleeping on those train seats had felt about like lying on a brick covered in cotton. Lucky for them they'd been dropped here at nighttime; some decent sleep would be good for all of them. She stretched lazily, and followed the rest as they were shown to their rooms by Molly Weasley.

Even as sleepy as she was, she couldn't help but notice two doors slightly open as they passed. She turned to stare directly at them, giving a wink and continuing on her way.

The four entered a large room with two double beds and a simple restroom. Their guide bade them good night, and shut the door as she left. Not two seconds later, Nero flopped onto one of the beds, asleep almost instantly. For once, they were all in agreement; sleep came first. They could clean all the blood, sweat, and the rest off in the morning.

* * *

Snape turned, looking directly at Dumbledore as they reconvened in the kitchen. "Well?"

He shut the door, and gave the rest a look. "…Things are as they seem," he said simply.

"Albus…are you sure?" Arthur Weasley asked.

"They made no attempt to hide their intentions." He smiled. "I don't believe I've ever met anyone so…direct."

"But from another world?"

"It does fit. Our defenses were tailored to any that attempted to come from _this_ world…" he said, amused.

"This is no time for jokes, Albus," Snape growled. "Even if they mean us no ill will, why trust them with matters of the Order? Especially if they have no mental defenses…"

"They've already discovered our headquarters," Sturgis muttered. "Not much of a choice…"

"Dumbledore…I don't know…" Molly said nervously. "Those people…there was dried blood all over them. Staying in the same place as the children…"

"I assure you that they will not harm anyone here." Dumbledore's tone was casual, but firm. "I cannot say why or how they are here, but perhaps it is fortunate that they are."

"Death Eaters couldn't possibly predict this," Sirius noted. "I'll take any advantage we can get in a war."

"They are…most unusual," Sturgis muttered.

"So are we," he countered. The group of wizards smiled to themselves. "Well, I suppose we should finish up the meeting, then. Where were we?"

* * *

The next morning, after cleaning thoroughly in the shower (Dante wiggled his eyebrows at Lady and suggested they wash together to "conserve hot water"; she'd rolled her eyes and said "not in the same house as a bunch of kids, we won't") and running through a quick inventory of their items, the group of four went down for breakfast, Molly Weasley and several children already there. One girl had bushy, brown hair; all four of the other children, a young girl, a slightly older boy, and two twin-looking boys older than him had flaming red hair. All talk seemed to disappear as they entered. Mrs. Weasley had made a meal with plenty of toast, bacon and eggs; she handed each of them plates with a somewhat forced smile, and they took their seats.

It became very clear to Nero that he was being watched closely by five pairs of curious eyes. He chewed slowly, feeling slightly on edge from all the stares. When he cleared his throat to ask for some butter, every one of the kids jumped as if a gun had gone off.

"Nice coat," one of the two redheaded boys who looked like twins said. This was an odd observation in Nero's eyes, but then the teens seemed to be dressed in somewhat…average clothing, like jeans and such. They probably weren't used to people walking around with blue and red leather longcoats.

"Fred!" the redhead who wasn't his twin hissed, elbowing him in the side. Was it a brother?

"…Thanks," the Holy Knight responded.

"Where'd you get it?" Fred persisted, sliding out of the way of another elbow.

"Tailor."

The table was quiet for another few minutes. In the meantime, Lady and Dante had made the revolutionary discovery that adding the bacon, eggs, and toast together equaled tasty breakfast sandwiches.

"What about your hair?" the non-twin redhead boy blurted out.

"Subtle, Ron," Fred muttered.

"What about my hair?" He knew what Ron had meant, but it was more fun this way.

"Why's it white?"

"Got in a fight with bleach," Dante called from across the table. "We won, of course." Nero turned to stare at him. "Hey, you were there, you remember."

 _Why even bother…_ He looked back at Ron, shrugged, and returned to eating.

The awkwardness continued for several minutes until finally, Lady scoffed and stood up. "For crying out loud…we're going to be staying here, no sense in keeping everyone in the dark." _All this quiet makes me feel like I'm in a morgue. Once was enough._ She held a hand to herself. "I'm Lady. This is Kyrie, Nero, and Dante," she continued, gesturing to each in turn. "We're…" She broke off, looking to Molly for support. Finding none, she decided to improvise. "Mercenaries. The Order hired us." _Kind of amazing how vague the truth can be, now that I think about it…_ She sat back down, trying her best to smile calmly. "Now…who might you be?"

They looked amongst themselves. After a few moments of silent glances, Fred stood up. "Fred Weasley. And this is George." He patted his twin for effect.

"Ginny Weasley," the redheaded girl said simply.

"I'm Ron. Ron Weasley," Ron said. After a few moments of silence, he added "We're siblings."

Lady smirked, but thought better of retorting. They were making an effort, after all, and they were only kids. "And you are…?" she asked, looking at the brown haired girl.

She stared back at Lady for a few moments before responding. "I'm Hermione Granger. If I can ask…what is it that mercenaries do for the Order?"

"That's Order business," Molly said, speaking for the first time at breakfast. "If you're finished, make sure you wash up. We've got loads to do today." All the kids grumbled, but moved towards the sink with their plates. "And no magic!" she warned as Fred and George made to draw their wands.

The Devil Hunters were finished with their meal soon after the kids had left. But they'd barely started to stand up from the table when Dumbledore walked in. "Excellent, you're awake. Molly, could we have a few minutes?"

She didn't seem like she wanted to agree, but she nodded and left all the same, throwing a wary glance backwards before leaving the room.

"I trust you're feeling much better, now that you've had rest, food, and drink," he said pleasantly, peering at them with a good-natured smile.

"We are," Kyrie said, looking back at him and feeling reminded very slightly of Sanctus. And yet she couldn't help but sense that this man had a very different air from Sanctus. The Order of the Sword's leader had always been very grandiose and prone to speech; this man seemed to favor a teaching style even in casual conversation, hearing the information given to him and guiding the flow of conversation towards solving a dilemma. "If you don't mind my asking, what makes you so trusting of us? We didn't get off to a very good start…"

He chuckled. "Ah, yes. But that was no fault of yours."

"Still, that's an awfully big leap to make," Nero joined in. "Us barging out of nowhere with weapons strapped to us, and all. What could've convinced you we were telling the truth? You a mind reader or something?"

"…Or something." There was the tiniest flicker of mischief in his twinkling gaze.

"Ah, hell. No wonder you looked right into our eyes when we were talking," Dante muttered. "I'm surprised we didn't catch on until now."

"I'm more surprised there was anything in your mind worth reading," Lady snorted. "Probably just a backlog of pizza orders and scenes of you borrowing my money…"

"Regardless," Dumbledore continued, cutting across Dante's retort, "you have abilities we will need very soon."

"Damn right. Once the demons start popping up, a lotta people are going to be in danger," the Son of Sparda commented. "And trust me. They'll show up. They always do."

He nodded, his face very serious. There was a new look in his eyes now; one full of focus and determination. Even Nero and Dante were impressed at the hint of power in the old man's eyes. "I believe you. And because of that, we need to discuss exactly what you'll be doing in the coming months…"


	2. Chapter 2: A Somewhat Grim(mauld) Place

Chapter 2: A Somewhat Grimm(auld) Place

After Dumbledore had left, the four were assigned by Mrs. Weasley to look through "a few small things" in one of the house's many upstairs bedrooms. Whatever uneasiness she felt around them, it seemed she was eager to accept manpower where she could.

As it turned out, "a few small things" seemed to be code for "nasty things for you to handle that should keep you busy for the day". The tasks weren't hard, granted, but they were the reason that, even as lunch came and went (Mrs. Weasley bringing them sandwiches around noon), they had yet to leave the room.

Lady peered over a collection of old knives, examining them for signs of poor maintenance, curses, or demonic influence. Her lack of knowledge about the current universe's system of magic meant that work had gone very slowly for her; still, there were a few slightly rusty but otherwise perfectly good knives that she set to one side, making a note to ask Sirius about taking them off his hands.

Kyrie was going through old books and parchment, organizing and cataloguing them. For whatever reason, they all seemed to be slightly distasteful, with titles like "The Right to Rule: Why Wizards Should Lead Muggles" (whatever Muggles were, she had a feeling that they wouldn't take kindly to being treated as inferior) or the like. The thought occurred to her that it was very odd for people fighting on the side of good to be using such a house, but perhaps it was out of desperation.

Dante had spent the better part of the morning using his bare hands to fend off an ugly, bucktoothed humanoid creature that had tried to attack them all upon nearing the bathroom by the bedroom they were to be working in. As murderous as it was, it was only about as strong as two people, and the Devil Hunter had gotten curious about what some of the monsters in this world were capable of; strange powers, odd abilities, or shapeshifting, perhaps? Eventually, however, he'd gotten bored of the thing trying to kill him with its bare hands only, and knocked it out with a flick to the forehead. Now, he was strolling around the room, peering over the rest of their shoulders to check if they'd found anything valuable.

Nero absentmindedly handed him a phial of what looked like blood over his shoulder to Dante, and went back to what he'd been assigned. He was busy using the Devil Bringer on his right arm to clean underneath the bed. So far, he'd discovered several stray objects (and several spiders) under it, but the phial was the only thing that had been intact. "Think there's any cash under the mattress?" he muttered. Immediately, the side of the bed closest to Nero's head lifted. He looked at the space that was revealed, staring a small, surprised-looking rat right in the eyes. "Nope." The mattress fell back down with a _flump!_ , and there was a somewhat muffled squeak. "Thanks, Dante."

As the hours dragged on, their efforts became somewhat sluggish and half-hearted. They were just beginning to wonder how much longer they had to work when there was a sudden rustle coming from the main hall that didn't seem to be stopping. Eager for an excuse to do something else, they all went to the door, peering through it as they opened it slightly. Several people seemed to be rushing back and forth, and yet making little noise in the hallway. "Wonder what's going on?" Lady muttered.

"Do you think someone's hurt?" Kyrie asked the others, concern in her voice.

"Can't be a demon attack…" Nero said, trying to figure out some sort of clue from the bustle of activity. "We just got here…it can't be…"

They watched for a few more moments, and then Dante shoved the door open. "What are you doing?" Nero hissed.

"Wanna know what's going on. So I'll ask." He weaved in and out of the people, making his way over to one that was standing still and tapping them on the shoulder.

Arthur Weasley jumped, turning around to look at him. "Yes?"

"Where's the fire?"

"…Surrey, it seems."

"Not from around here, remember?"

Mr. Weasley gave him an apologetic look. "Ah, yes. Forgive me, but I need to finish this letter right away. In a moment?"

Dante nodded, looking around and making sure one of the people didn't bowl him over while he waited. A short time later, Arthur handed the letter to what looked like a very old owl, carrying it downstairs. A minute or so later, he trudged back up the stairs, looking very harried. "Well, it's all in Dumbledore's hands at this point; no sense crying over spilt potion…" He spotted Dante, smiling in a tired manner. "Ah, yes. An explanation."

The activity in the hallway had ceased in the meantime, everyone eventually disappearing from upstairs. "Yeah. So what's wrong? Not demons, is it?"

"No, nothing of the sort. We've received word that there's been some trouble with Harry performing underage magic. Well, you can imagine that the Ministry is looking for anything to pin on him so that they can discredit…" He stopped as he saw the blank look on Dante's face. "Oh. Well, Harry Potter is in trouble. So Albus has gone to sort it all out."

Dante nodded slowly. "Okay. So…who's Harry Potter? Is he part of the Order?"

Mr. Weasley stared at him. "Merlin's beard…you don't know who Harry Potter is?"

"…Should I know the guy?"

He shook his head in bewilderment. Perhaps these people _weren't_ from this world after all…

In the next couple of days, they were brought up to speed in bits and pieces by talking to whatever Order member was free at any given time. Most were generous enough to share what they could, if slightly amazed at their lack of common knowledge (Sirius teased Dante that they really ought to enroll at Hogwarts, if they wanted a full history of the wizarding world).

"If you think about it, this Potter kid's kinda like you," Nero commented as they were eating lunch. "Most evil thing in his world painting a target on his back and everything."

The Son of Sparda scoffed, saying "Well, as long as he doesn't have white hair, hunt demons, and use both a sword and a gun. I've already got one copycat."

"Yeah, yeah, you're embarrassed I pull the style off better, I know. But this kid's _fifteen_ ; you think he's up to that kind of pressure?"

He shrugged, answering around a mouthful of bread. "How should I know?"

Lady was keeping out of the conversation, wondering to herself. _Could our being here be something to do with him? But for what end?_ She sipped her coffee slowly, mind turning over all their information, but to no avail.

Kyrie, having finished her meal and placed her dishes in the sink, decided she'd stretch her legs a bit. She left the room, and bumped right into a small, living creature. "Oh! I'm so sorry; here, let me help." She helped the creature up off the floor, looking at it with concern. It was a tiny, old looking thing, with a rag tied as a loincloth around it and large, bat-like ears. "Please forgive me for knocking you over. My name is Kyrie. What's yours?"

The elf-like thing peered at her over its large nose, not seeming to have heard her question. "Miss apologizes to old Kreacher, as if he is her friend. But Kreacher thinks she looks like the other blood-traitors here, the scum that defile my mistress's home…"

She was taken aback at his tone and words, but still kept her kind smile. "Hello, Kreacher. I'm not related to any of the people here. And I don't mean to defile anything; I'm here to help."

Kreacher stared at her, silent for some time. "Miss says she is not a blood-traitor. Is she a Mudblood?"

Kyrie didn't know what that word meant; it hadn't come up during their questioning of the Order. "I'm not. Is this your home?"

The small elf's eyes seemed to gain the hint of a shine in them. "This is Kreacher's home; he lives to serve the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. He follows with pride the orders of his glorious mistress-"

"By which you mean the mad ravings of the old bat's portrait," a voice said behind Kyrie. She turned, seeing that it was Sirius. "Insulting our new guests, are we?"

"No, he wasn't!" Kyrie insisted in surprise. "I was just asking him about himself…"

"Were you? Hmm…" He looked at Kreacher suspiciously. "And what were you doing outside the kitchen door?"

"Kreacher was preparing to make a midday meal," the elf said, bowing low to Sirius.

"Hah! Eavesdropping, in other words?"

"We don't mind." She wasn't quite sure why, but the way Sirius had changed his mood made her worry. "He's not causing any harm."

He looked at her curiously, but shrugged. "Well, Kreacher, if you're so eager to do something, go clean up after everyone."

"Right away, Master," Kreacher said, straightening up and giving a fleeting look at Kyrie. He turned, and then added in an audible mutter "Master orders Kreacher to clean up after the scum and rabble, as if he's better, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she could see Kreacher now…"

"Ah, sorry about that," Sirius said as Kreacher disappeared into the kitchen. "He's been alone for so long, and worse, he's been taking orders from my dear old mum's portrait in the meantime. Wish I could say he was any better before, but…well, about the only thing that's changed is that we get to hear how foul he is aloud."

"What is Kreacher?" Kyrie asked him.

"Oh, of course! He's a house-elf. Erm…sort of hard to explain, but they tend to wizards. Especially the rich old families like this one." This last sentence seemed to darken his mood slightly.

"He's…your retainer?"

Kyrie's words seemed to amuse him slightly. "Well, yes and no. Actually…sure, why not? But don't expect him to actually help; more like a living version of my mother's portrait, really."

"He doesn't seem very bad. In fact…he almost seems sad…"

Sirius gave her a pitying look. "Don't worry yourself about him. Trust me; more than enough to worry about, what with your situation and working with the Order." He patted her on the shoulder and then walked in to the kitchen.

That evening, there was once again a rush of activity. People kept showing up at the door (a woman's shrill voice shrieking from the front hall every time they did), the teens were acting restless, and the four "mercs" were asked to sit in on the Order's meeting. They discussed things back and forth for quite some time; it was well into the evening as they were given details and diagrams to pore over.

During which time, unknown to them, several people had touched down outside via broom. One of which, though nearly impossible to see, peered around in curious interest.

Harry Potter had arrived.


	3. Chapter 3: Dining With Demons

Chapter 3: Dining With Demons

Harry Potter was not a happy wizard.

His elation at getting away from Privet Drive had been replaced with the irritation of being kept unawares of the status of the wizarding world. He'd kept silent until being led to the room where Ron and Hermione were waiting, and even the warm glow of reuniting with them had been consumed by his frustrations. They'd been told to keep silent about the important things, and by Dumbledore no less, but did that excuse the overwhelming lack of any meaningful communication between them? Letters were appreciated, but couldn't they have something of substance? After all he'd been through, why was he not trusted with anything?

"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO FIND OUT WHAT'S GOING ON…"

…Some of the finer points may have been lost in translation, though, since they were being shouted at the top of his lungs.

Eventually, however, he'd calmed down enough to hear his two best friends out. They were just beginning to fill him in on what had been happening when there was a loud crack, and two grinning, red-haired boys had appeared in the room with them.

"Hello, Harry!" George said, beaming. "We thought we heard you."

"You should try for louder next time, see if you can reach the people ten miles away," Fred added, smiling as well. The effect was made slightly more absurd by the flesh-colored string dangling from his ear.

"You two passed your Apparition tests, then?" Harry growled.

"We did, and with distinction, but never mind that now." Fred looked at Ron and Hermione expectantly, removing the string. "So, what have you told him so far?"

"Not much," Harry said grumpily. "I know this place is headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix."

"You didn't tell him yet?" He looked shocked and delighted at the same time. "The Order's had some new recruits. Just made it official last night, matter of fact."

"We were getting to that!" Ron said indignantly. "Just because you two are so impatient…"

"Time is Galleons, dear brother," George said simply. "Anyway, we caught some of their, ah… 'introduction' on the old Extendables."

"Some of what?" Harry asked, forgetting some of his anger in his bewilderment.

"We don't know exactly what happened, but it was a couple of nights back. The Order members were in the middle of a meeting, and then suddenly, we heard a lot of commotion and some yelling, and then there was a lot that was hard to hear. We caught some of it, though; 'demon slaying' and 'different types of magic'. We had to scarper when they stopped the meeting in the middle, and we saw Mum show four strangers to a bedroom. We hadn't heard or seen them come in. One of them looked like he knew we were watching, but she didn't say anything about it."

"And then we had breakfast with them next morning," Fred added. "We couldn't ask them much, though; Mum put us to work elsewhere. The only times we see them now are meals, and Mum won't let us ask them any more questions."

Harry took some time to process all this information. Four strangers working for the Order of the Phoenix? Had Dumbledore contacted foreign wizards? Or perhaps they had sought him out? "What are they like?" he asked.

"Well, they talk like Americans," Hermione said, frowning. "One of them said that they were mercenaries hired by the Order. But she didn't say anything else."

"Nothing? Well, what _do_ you know about them?"

"Well, er…there's two men and two women…and the woman who told us that, er…" Ron seemed to turn slightly pink. "She's…got these sunglasses and a weird kind of white suit…"

"Ron fancies her," Fred whispered conspiratorially to Harry.

"Do not!" Ron snapped, going redder still.

"I don't blame him, personally," Fred continued, withdrawing a handful of extra Extendable Ears from his robes. "But they all seemed…a bit strange. The men can't be much older than Bill, and yet they've both got white hair. Wouldn't answer much about themselves, either."

The door opened, and Harry recognized the form of Ron's sister, Ginny. She smiled as she saw him. "Oh, hello Harry! I thought that was your voice I heard." She turned to the twins. "You ought to be more careful listening in; Tonks hinted that Mum might put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door if she catches us."

"It's well worth the risk, especially now," Fred insisted. "I really fancy hearing one of those new blokes have another go at Snape."

" _Snape_?!" Harry exclaimed. "Is he here, then?"

"Yeah," George muttered. "Giving another 'top-secret' report, no doubt. Git."

"Dumbledore trusts him," Hermione insisted, "and he's on our side now."

"Still doesn't stop him from being a git," Ron responded stubbornly.

"Hey, Harry…care to take a listen with us?" Fred asked with a grin, holding one of the Extendable Ears out to him. "If the door hasn't been Imperturbed yet, no sense keeping all the fun to ourselves."

It didn't exactly erase his earlier moodiness, but it put a smile on his face all the same. "Cheers," he said, taking the offered Ear as George passed one to Ginny. They all snuck out of the room, slowly climbing down until they reached the landing just above the kitchen door. Fred, George, Ginny and Harry (following the example of the others) all inserted one end of the string into their ears and carefully began lowering the other end downward. As the strings touched the floor, they all wriggled towards the crack between the door and ground. To Harry's surprise, the voices he heard came in as clearly as if he were standing in the room himself.

"The simple fact remains that your presence cannot remain… _unnoticed_ forever," the familiar voice of Severus Snape said. Harry scowled; even just the man's voice was difficult to tolerate.

"We'll do what we can to prepare before that time comes," a woman's voice said. "In the meantime, we can use what he doesn't know against him. If we're lucky-"

"We're never lucky," another unfamiliar voice interrupted; this one was male. "But if we're quick, we won't have to be. If we set up something here…" There was a tapping sound; no doubt he was pointing to a location on a map. "…it should keep us central relative to all the expected hotspots."

"No, that's no good," the woman's voice responded. There was a flutter of paper. "That sits right on top of a ley line. We'd have Ministry eyes on us if we so much as lit a cauldron with magic."

"Hmm…what about this location?" The familiar voice of his godfather reached him. "It's a bit further from the eastern areas, but it should give you room to maneuver."

There was a rustling of papers for some time before the woman finally spoke again. "…I think that could work. Nero, what're your thoughts?"

"Looks like if things get too rough, we've got a way out, at least. I like it."

"I don't," another man's voice cut in. "I still say we shouldn't keep it too far from-"

"Dante, we've been _over_ this already," the woman replied testily. "There's no point getting that close. We don't need to travel everywhere in the entire country, just the areas that are most at risk for-"

Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. Thinking it might be Hermione or Ginny, he turned around, and then jumped. A beautiful woman with orange hair and white (robes? Were they robes?) clothes was standing just behind the small group. She smiled and held a finger to her lips. It seemed that Fred, George and Ginny had all taken out their Extendable Ears. He did so as well, looking at the stranger with curiosity. "Someone's doing something they're not supposed to," she whispered to them, looking at the Weasleys in particular. "I think your mother might have a fit if she knew you were eavesdropping."

"Well, then…" Fred whispered, somehow keeping an even face. "We're lucky you won't tell her. Erm…aren't we?"

Both her arm and her smile dropped. There was a tense silence before she sighed and smiled again. "I suppose so. I'd get back to your rooms if I were you, though; the meeting's almost over."

"Right you are," George said hurriedly, collecting the Ears and motioning for the rest of them to follow him back upstairs.

"And next time," she added, "you might want to make sure your door is closed when discussing your plans."

* * *

Sometime later, Harry's head was still spinning with all the information he'd been given as he and the others were heading downstairs for dinner. Percy's estrangement from the family, the mysteries of the Order of the Phoenix, the smear campaign against him and especially his upcoming hearing…it was quite a bit to take in. Harry was paying little attention to where his feet were going.

So little attention, in fact, that despite obeying Mrs. Weasley's request to be quiet in the hallway, he only noticed that Tonks had appeared in the hallway when he was an inch away from her. The two collided, each giving a cry of surprise as they toppled into an umbrella stand with the appearance of a severed troll's leg; things that, as might be imagined, were most certainly not quiet at all.

Harry's apologies, as well as those of Tonks, had barely begun before a noise even louder than the one they'd caused rang out. It was a horrible, ear-splitting screech, coming from a painting that had been behind the set of black curtains he'd seen on his arrival. The painting was of an old woman; a mad-looking woman screaming at the top of her lungs. She shrieked as if in terrible pain, yelling at all of them as other portraits began to yell out as well. _"Filth! Scum! Blood traitors, Mudbloods and vermin! You defile the house of my forefathers!"_

Before Harry could do much more than get himself and Tonks back to their feet, a door facing him flew open, and two men ran into the room. One was wearing robes and had long hair black as darkness, and the other was clothed in a long red coat and had messy hair that was as white as snow, yet looked no older than the first one. "SHUT UP!" the dark-haired man roared.

" _YOU!"_ the woman in the painting screeched. _"Blood traitor! Shame upon my heritage and name!"_

"Shut up, you horrible old hag! Shut UP!"

"Yo!" the man in red yelled over the din. "You attached to this painting at all?"

"Not in the slightest! Do your worst!"

The white-haired man grinned, and a bundle of strange rods connected by chains to an iron ring suddenly appeared in his hand. He thrust them forward. The screams cut off abruptly. Harry stared, seeing a large block of ice covering the painting and several feet of the wall around it.

"If that's permanent, I'll give you half my gold," the black-haired man said gleefully.

"Not exactly, but I could knock this chunk of the wall out for you if you want."

He sighed. "Tempting…but I'll have to decline."

"Suit yourself. But the offer's always open, free of charge." He tucked the rods back away, turning to Harry and waving lazily. "Hey, kid. Looks like we're getting ready to eat; I'll let you two catch up." He nodded to the black-haired man, and strode off towards the kitchen.

Harry's godfather, Sirius, brushed his hair out of his eyes and grinned at him. "Hello, Harry. You've met Dante and my mother, I see."

"Your-?!"

"Mother, yeah. We've been trying to get her down for a month, but who cares about possible Permanent Sticking Charms when this solves the problem so nicely?"

"What's a portrait of your mother doing at the Order's headquarters?"

He snorted. "No one told you? This was my parents' house. Mine now, being the last Black and all. I offered it to Dumbledore to use as headquarters; the one useful thing I've managed until now." His godfather gave a sigh, shook his head, and then smiled warmly at him. "But enough of that. It's good to see you, Harry."

He led Harry into the kitchen, which to be honest was only slightly less gloomy than the rest of the house. The large kitchen table was full of assorted clutter; scrolls of parchment, ink bottles, wine bottles, lit candles, and what looked like a pile of rags. Several people were already there; the orange-haired woman from earlier was in deep discussion with an unfamiliar woman that hadn't been part of Harry's guard, while the man Sirius had called Dante was laughing with another white-haired young man. Mr. Weasley and his eldest son, Bill, were in conversation that stopped once they noticed Harry. They both greeted him, and Bill began cleaning up the parchment as Mr. Weasley shook his hand.

"Tough journey?" Bill asked, his arms laden with several scrolls. "Did Mad-Eye make you come via Greenland after all?"

"He did try," Tonks said as she entered the room. "Need help with those? Oh, no…sorry…" She'd accidentally knocked one of the scrolls into a candle, where its corner had promptly caught fire. As Mrs. Weasley moved to put the candle back and repair the parchment, Harry managed to catch a glimpse of some sort of map. Was it a building, or perhaps a map of a city? But before he could get a better look, Bill had muttered " _Evanesco_ ", and the parchment had disappeared.

"Have a seat, Harry," his godfather said, motioning to a chair. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

At these words, the pile of rags gave a start. "Someone say me name?" came the voice of Mundungus Fletcher. "I don't think it's a bad idea…" He raised his hand.

"The meeting's over, Dung."

The rags shifted, and the face of Mundungus Fletcher poked out of the top as he lowered his hand. "…So it is." He made to pull something from his pocket, but froze as his eyes met Dante's. He gave an irritated grumble and put whatever it was back. "Listen…owe you a 'pology for before. I wouldn't 'ave left, see, but there was a good business opportunity…"

"I think your shady deals need to get a little shadier," suggested the man in red. "You can't let people know where your money comes from or goes. Maybe next time-"

"There most certainly will NOT be a next time!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Now, _if_ you'd like dinner sometime before tomorrow, I'll need a hand."

Harry offered, but she refused, saying he'd had a long journey already. The rest of the people in the kitchen, minus the four around the table, got up and helped with dinner. Mrs. Weasley seemed happy enough for most of them, though Harry caught her shooting several worried glances at Tonks and a young man that had white hair like Dante's. Harry wasn't surprised; both had several near-accidents with the dishes, and the man kept cursing under his breath.

"Well, I'd say introductions are in order, wouldn't you?" Sirius asked with a grin. "There are a few faces you're familiar with, but apart from Dung, there're some others in the Order here. You've already met Dante."

He grinned. "Nice to finally meet ya in person, kid." He grabbed Harry's hand, giving it a powerful shake. "Sirius talks about you all the time."

His godfather smiled slightly. "The one in blue is Nero." The man in question gave him a small nod, but gave no other acknowledgement. "The young woman in white…" He blinked. "…The one with orange hair is Kyrie."

She took a break from stirring a cauldron over the fire to shake his hand as well. "A pleasure to meet you, Harry." She gave the smallest of winks, and it wasn't hard for him to spot why she was acting as if they hadn't yet met; Mrs. Weasley was watching him and Sirius suspiciously.

Having now been introduced properly, his impression of the woman was wistful; a part of him wondering if she was what having a mother would have been like. There was warmth in her kind brown eyes, yet a firmness in her handshake that spoke of quiet strength. "Hello," he said.

She nodded, and the remaining woman stepped forward from the dresser as Kyrie released his hand and returned to preparing the meal. The unfamiliar woman shifted the cutlery she was holding into her left hand and extending her right. Her hair was as black as Harry's, and her eyes were each a different colour; one red and one green. Unlike the dress Kyrie wore, this new person's outfit was made of leather, and far more revealing. Though she wore clothes as white as Kyrie's, her bearing could not have been more different; she wrung his hand with an almost painful grip, while staring at him with such scrutiny he felt as if he were being x-rayed.

"Name's Lady. Nice to meet you." And with no other pleasantries, she abruptly let go of his hand and returned to her work.

Harry sat back down; feeling, if possible, even more curious about the strange new people than before. Their talk turned to Harry's summer, which was almost as irritating to relate to Sirius as it had been to relate to Ron and Hermione. He didn't shout, though, so that was good progress.

Sirius gave him a wry smile when he finished his story, saying that he envied Harry's chance for going outside and experiencing a life-or-death struggle. Harry felt too relieved to be away from the Dursleys to object to his godfather's statement. He also couldn't help but notice Sirius brought Dumbledore's name up in a less-than-pleased tone, which brought a surge of affection up in him that quelled his anger.

"…and until the last few days, the only company I've had on a consistent basis are my mother's mad painting and our old elf, and he's…" He gave a furtive glance towards Dante. "Say, would you be interested in-"

"I'm not putting your elf in an ice cube," he said, frowning in disapproval. "Non-sentient or demon-blooded only; it's in my contract."

"Oh yes, I forgot about that one," he replied, equal parts disappointed and bemused. "Well, what about the time you tried to make ice cream with it?"

The man fidgeted. "Yeah, well, that was an emergency case."

"Us not having strawberry sundaes constitutes an emergency?"

"Sirius?" Mundungus interrupted, holding an expensive-looking silver goblet. "This solid silver, mate?"

"Yes," he replied, giving a curt description of its history in the same manner a bored student would recite lines. "Finest fifteenth century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"Hmm…that'd come off, though," Mundungus muttered, looking longingly at the goblet.

"If it does, something else comes off," Dante warned, patting the grip of his sword for effect.

Mundungus gulped, setting the goblet back down and moving ever-so-slightly away from it, muttering under his breath. " 'Least I'm not the one who nearly turned this place into a sodding snowstorm…"

"NO, JUST CARRY THEM!"

They barely had time to react when several things came flying into the room; on instinct, the Devil Hunters reacted. Nero caught a large, stew-filled cauldron with both arms and an "Oof!", but nevertheless successfully. Lady snatched an iron flagon of butterbeer out of the air just before it would have hit her in the nose. Kyrie grabbed a loaf of bread that had sailed towards her. Dante got hit in the stomach with a wooden breadboard, grabbed two bottles of firewhiskey before they could go past him, and then had a large bread knife go straight into his neck.

The room went silent with shock, the handle of the knife quivering slightly from its place in Dante's neck. He set the bottles he'd caught on the table to free up his hands, and then casually pulled the knife out. "Ahh, that reminds me of when I was six…" he said, with a nostalgic air. Clearing his throat, he said "Oh, boys! I hope that wasn't intentional!"

Fred and George looked somewhere between appalled and curious as they came into the room. "Well…no…" George muttered, looking everywhere but forward.

"Just…saving time…" Fred added lamely.

Nero set the cauldron down, sighing. " 'The rash rush, and risk ruin.' That's what Credo always-" He broke off suddenly, and both he and Kyrie went somewhat rigid.

…

"Let's eat!" Harry insisted with forced vigor.

"I'll clean that off," Lupin said hurriedly, pointing his wand at the knife; the blood disappeared moments later.

No one said anything for a few minutes, the only sounds being the clatter of silverware and sipping of stew. Eventually, however, Mr. Weasley struck up a conversation with Lupin, and the rest of them followed in turn. Harry, for his part, had his focus jump from one conversation to the next as he ate. It was difficult to keep track of all the different topics; goblin politics, the Auror office, Dung's less-than-legal exploits, a boggart that might be in the drawing room, and something about building code laws.

Then, too, there was some in-meal entertainment to consider: Tonks was transforming her nose into all manners of shapes, and Nero and Dante were taking turns to steal each other's food at least once a minute. It lasted for nearly fifteen minutes until each of the white-haired men tried to use their forks to claim a slice of bread from the other's plate; at that point, Lady stepped in before a scuffle could break out (Harry half-expected for them to fight using their forks like small knives, though he wasn't sure why).

Through the main course and the pudding, Harry felt his worries begin to fade, the pleasant atmosphere and delicious food to credit for a relaxed feeling that overtook him. Still, time would never slow down even for the most wonderful of feasts, and soon the hour had grown very late indeed.

"Nearly time for bed, I think." Mrs. Weasley stretched and yawned.

"Not just yet, Molly," said Sirius, fixing Harry with a look. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I expected the first thing you'd do once you'd stepped through the door was start asking questions about Voldemort."

The formerly peaceful atmosphere tensed, and all the adult wizards were no longer looking relaxed or content, but alert. Dante's eyes had narrowed, Nero's arms became covered in something like shells that had glowing red light coming from them, and Lady had inched her hand closer to one of her knives.

"I did!" Harry asserted. "I asked Ron and Hermione, but they said they couldn't tell me anything because we weren't in the Order-"

"And they're quite right!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted, sitting bolt upright in her chair. "You're far too young to be in the Order."

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius countered. "Harry's been stuck in that Muggle house for a month, he's got a right to know what's happening-"

"Hang on!" George said, outraged. "We're older than he is!"

"And you never answered our questions all month," Fred cut in. "We're of age, we should know-"

A loud whistle interrupted all of them. They all turned to look at Nero. "Sorry, but it's getting a little late to be shouting. Show of hands, who's still going to school?" It took a moment, but all of the Hogwarts students raised their hands; Fred and George looked somewhat mutinous. "Let's put it this way. Would you trust your life to a half-finished wand?"

"Now just a minute-"

Nero held up his left arm to silence Ron's outburst. Ron, seeing the appendage pulse bright red, fell silent. "No, you don't. You trust a finished wand. It doesn't matter which one's more powerful, can do more spells, or has more battle experience. The finished one is in full control of itself. Because of that, everything else flows directly from it; power, speed, skill and defense."

Molly blinked, surprised at the unexpected support. "Er…thank you, Nero. That's an excellent point."

"Someone important taught me that." True, that someone had been talking about swords rather than wands, but the basic idea translated over.

"Perhaps it might be wise," Lupin suggested calmly, "to give them a general picture of the situation. After all, how can anyone learn control if they don't have a chance to understand their limits? Better to give a clear picture from ourselves, than a distorted one from…others."

There was silence for a time, and Harry had a feeling Kyrie might not be the only one to have caught onto the Extendable Ears.

"Can't keep them in the dark forever," Dante suggested. "Give 'em a warning now, so they know what to prepare for."

"Well…all right," Mrs. Weasley growled. "I can see I'm going to be outvoted, so let me just say this: as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart-"

"Harry's not a child. He's not your son, Molly." Sirius's voice was quiet.

"He's as good as!" she insisted. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got all of us," Lady interjected as Sirius prepared to retort. "Sirius included. We all have his best interests at heart, but speaking for him isn't going to solve anything. If he is like a son to you, then _trust_ him." Mrs. Weasley stared defiantly at her, but did not respond. "Let's hear what he has to say about this." She nodded at Harry.

"I want to know what's going on," he responded instantly. As touched as he was to hear Mrs. Weasley call him as good as a son, Sirius was right. He was _not_ a child.

His godfather nodded, trying to turn so that Mrs. Weasley couldn't see his look of approval. "Okay, then. What do you want to know?"

Harry was torn between asking about the strangely-dressed Americans and Voldemort. Still, between the two, he was relatively sure that the odd strangers weren't trying to kill him…yet. "Where's Voldemort? What's he doing?"

Sirius gave him a wry smile. "If we knew that, we'd have him and his little fanclub sorted. Believe me, we'd like to know just as much as you."

"He hasn't been on the Muggle news; no funny deaths or anything. Why not?"

"Because there haven't _been_ any funny deaths. Not that we know of, anyway, and trust me, we know quite a lot."

"More than he _thinks_ we do, anyway," Lupin added.

"I don't suppose it's because he's bored with killing people," Harry muttered darkly.

"No," Sirius agreed. "Actually, it's because he can't. Or rather, not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because of you."

That surprised him. "Me? Why me?"

"From what we can tell, his little comeback party didn't turn out quite like he'd hoped," Dante chuckled, and he gave a proud look that was mirrored by Sirius and Lupin.

"Simply put, you weren't supposed to survive," clarified Sirius. "Nor was Dumbledore supposed to know that he'd returned. And, well…here we are."

They went on to explain things in a bit more detail; general things they were trying to do, and things they were trying to stop Voldemort doing, but none of it gave him the slightest idea of what exactly the Order was responsible for doing. He had the feeling Mrs. Weasley was itching to stop the conversation, so rather than press his luck, he decided to ask his other question. "And…those four?" He nodded towards Dante's group.

Sirius chuckled. "Ah. Them."

"Gee, thanks…" Dante muttered.

"They're…shall we say, 'independent contractors'."

"He means we're the official ass-kicking squad," Nero said in a stage whisper.

"NERO!" Mrs. Weasley snapped indignantly.

"…Sorry. But you get the idea." He didn't dare look Mrs. Weasley in the eyes, especially as everyone else had given a snort of laughter.

"…He's not exactly wrong," Sirius continued, hiding his grin from Ron's mum. "They've been inducted into the Order to do a few things for us that we…might not have done otherwise."

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"Sirius…" Mr. Weasley warned.

Harry's godfather frowned, clearly looking to rephrase whatever he'd been about to say. "Like…things that we can't afford to be seen doing. Things that they have experience with. While they work on those things, it gives us more time to investigate what the Death Eaters are planning. It's been especially helpful, now that we know Voldemort is after-"

"That's enough." Mr. Weasley's tone was calm, but firm. "While I appreciate the need for putting everyone on their guard, giving too much information could have the opposite effect."

Sirius nodded, a reluctant yet agreeing look on his face. "Safety first, of course."

"Well, then," Mrs. Weasley said, staring around at the lot of them. "You've been up long enough, and you'll need to be up early in the morning tomorrow. Bed. Now!"

* * *

"So…what d'you reckon?" Ron asked as they lay in their beds upstairs.

Harry knew what he meant. "About what they're up to, you mean?"

There were two small popping sounds. "OW!" Ron yelped, his voice slightly muffled.

"Shh!" Fred hissed. "Keep it down, or Mum'll be in here in two shakes of a Crup's tail."

"You Apparated on my _head_!"

"Yes, well, it's dark and we needed a big target. Have you got there yet?"

"We were just talking about what Sirius said about the Americans," Ron grumbled as they climbed off him. "Before you two fell on me."

"Sorry, little bro. But we just couldn't wait; that's more than we've got from the Extendables before," George informed him. "Quite a useful little tidbit of information, wouldn't you say?"

"I'd say," Fred agreed. "Now, just what could four American wizards do that the Order can't?"

"I'm curious about what Voldemort's after, too," Harry said, ignoring the sharp intakes of breath around him. "It must be important, if the Order wants to focus all their efforts on stopping it."

"You think the new four are hit-wizards for the Order?" Ron suggested. "Trying to hunt down Death Eaters and thin You-Know-Who's army? That'd sure make the Order's job easier."

There was a pause as they pondered all the information individually. Personally, Harry thought Ron might have a point; Voldemort was still dangerous alone, but the less people on his side the better.

There was a creak on the steps below. "Mum," Fred whispered in warning.

"She just doesn't trust us," George sighed. "Can't imagine why not." There was a quiet pop, and Harry and Ron hurriedly pretended to be asleep as the door opened the smallest crack, a flickering light visible outside it. The door closed, and the light faded as they heard Mrs. Weasley going up the stairs.

"Well, I guess we can think about it more in the morning," Ron whispered. "'Night."

Harry was so sure that, with his mind as active as it was, he wouldn't be able to sleep at all. Not to mention, he was determined to resolve the mysteries of the newcomers and the Order's secret dealings. It was so much excitement compared to the dull summer prior, and his delight to be back in the wizarding world only increased the excitement even more.

So it was somewhat of a surprise that, a mere five minutes later, he had promptly fallen asleep.


	4. Chapter 4: Dirty Business

Chapter 4: Dirty Business

Harry was woken from a dream by George's loud voice; a dream filled with many-legged creatures with cannons for heads that were chasing him, while all he had to fight them off with were a flagon of butterbeer and Ron's old broken wand. George was telling him he had to…something to do with downstairs and breakfast and drawing room and Doxies. His body rose as if on autopilot, and he only really seemed to come to himself when he'd followed Ron into the drawing room after breakfast (from which he had no memory of what he'd actually eaten); the sight that met his eyes was so peculiar that it practically jolted him awake.

Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Hermione, Fred, George, and Dante were all grouped around a set of green curtains that moved as if they were filled with invisible bees. Nearly all of them had tied cloths over their noses and mouths aside from Dante; he was wearing a strange metal mask that was matched by a set of gauntlets and...boots, or so they seemed. All had several lines and dots that glowed as if there were some sort of colour-changing neon within them. "Welcome to the party, sleepyheads," he greeted them.

"What happened to your sword?" Ron asked.

The man waved with one of his gauntleted arms. "This one suits the job better. Even comes with a built-in mask, so win-win!"

"Are we waiting for the others?" Harry asked, looking around for them.

"They're busy at the moment," Mrs. Weasley said, with a note of finality in her voice that allowed no discussion. "Now, once you two have covered your faces, we'll each take a spray. It's Doxycide, and with as bad as this infestation looks, we might need all of it. _What_ that house elf's been doing these last few years…"

Hermione's protest was interrupted by another voice. "Probably repeating how much of an unworthy son I was for the five thousandth time," came the voice of Sirius, who had entered the room carrying a bag with blood stains that looked to be filled with dead rats. "He could mutter it in his sleep with all the practice my mother gave him." At Harry's curious look, he dropped the bag into an empty chair and said "Just been feeding Buckbeak. I've had to keep him upstairs, and he does seem to enjoy my mother's bedroom, so we're both happy in the end. Anyway, about this writing desk…"

While he and Mrs. Weasley discussed what may have been hidden within (in strained, overly polite voices, no less), Harry and Ron donned their masks. "What do you reckon the others are doing?" Harry whispered to him.

"I dunno. Maybe they're doing Order stuff?"

"But what's _he_ doing here, then?"

Their discussion was interrupted by a clanging bell in the distance. Sirius stopped with his examination of the desk, wearing an expression of great irritation. "I keep telling them to…" He stopped suddenly, as if listening for something. And then his frustration seemed to melt into glee. "Oh, I could get used to this."

"I'm tellin' ya, if you hate that painting so much, one solid punch and the problem's solved." Sirius shook his head at Dante's suggestion. "Well, anyway, you gonna stick around and watch the show?"

"Maybe another time; Order business comes first. I'll leave this one to you." And with a nod to them, he departed.

Mrs. Weasley was checking a book lying open on the sofa; according to the title at the top page margins, it was _Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests._ "Now, be careful, you lot. Doxies bite and their teeth are poisonous; and while I've got a bottle of the antidote here, it would be best if no one needed it." She passed out the spray bottles to all of them, save the white-haired member of their party, and readied herself in front of the curtains, motioning for the group to join her. The rest of them took up positions in line with her. "As soon as I say the word, start spraying immediately; they may fly straight at us, but these bottles say one good squirt should immobilize them. When they're paralyzed, throw them here." She indicated a large metal bucket behind them. "All right…SPRAY!"

They'd been spraying only a few seconds when one of the doxies flew out of the curtains. Harry barely had time to register its tiny, four-fisted and dark-haired form before he sprayed it on instinct, catching it full in the face and sending it tumbling to the floor, at which point a certain gauntleted hand picked it up and lobbed it into the bucket. "Can't believe I drew the short straw," the man grumbled. "I swear she rigged it that time…"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked him, not daring to turn his head to address him while the doxies were still berserk.

"Lady drew straws with Nero and me to see who would be helping you guys out in here. Bet their work's more interesting than this." Contrary to the rest of them, he was simply swatting the creatures as if they were mildly irritating flies. "You'd think a guy couldn't lose a guessing game with two-to-one odds, wouldn't you?" He lazily flicked a doxy out of the air that had been a second away from reaching his eye.

"But aren't you supposed to be part of the Order now? I thought-"

"Pay attention, you two!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. "And Fred, what are you doing with that?"

They both glanced at Fred, who was holding one of the stunned doxies by its wing and looking curiously at it. "Just checking!" he said airily, moving to throw it in the bucket; the instant his mother had turned back to the curtains, however, he slid it into his pocket.

"We need doxy venom for experiments on our Skiving Snackboxes," George told Harry in an undertone.

"What's a 'skiving' and why do you need venom for it?" Dante whispered.

George looked nervous at Dante's question, but at Harry's curious look, he explained. "Well…they're sweets we've been creating that make whoever eats them ill." He kept a wary eye on Mrs. Weasley's form as he continued. "Not _really_ ill; just ill enough to get you out of class. We've been developing them over the summer; they've each got two, colour-coded ends. Take the orange end of the Puking Pastille, and you start throwing up; but once you've been rushed out of class, you eat the purple end and-"

"-you're as good as new, ready for an hour of adventure that would otherwise have been devoted to mandatory boredom. Or so our adverts say, anyway." Fred had edged over to them, likewise keeping a cautious watch on his mother. "But they need a bit of work before they're ready. Our testers…which is to say, we…are having trouble getting the purple ends down for the time being."

"Are those the only kind you've got?" The eldest member of their huddled group had been busy swatting pests out of the air while they'd been talking, and he fended them off with one hand while handing several behind himself to Fred. Harry noticed there was what looked like a pair of small metal wings on his back made of the same material as the gauntlets and mask.

"Well…we've got those, Fainting Fancies, Nosebleed Nougat…don't suppose you'd like to be a tester for one of those, would you?" Fred asked casually.

"Nah; I bleed enough as it is." The twins grimaced slightly, but he took no notice. "Actually, I was wondering what you were doing with the ones that aren't working."

"Er…well, recycling them for the next batch, mostly. Why?"

He looked disappointed, but shrugged it off. "Put me down for a dozen of every kind you've got," he whispered earnestly, swiping through the air and causing several unconscious doxies to rain down. "And if you come up with more types, a dozen of every one of those, too."

Fred looked torn between enthusiasm and suspicion. "…Why so interested?"

"You think ducking outta classes is bad, just wait until you've got debt collectors…" He made a disgusted face. "I'll take all the help that I can get."

"Well…okay. And if you're so interested, we might have a few more products you'd be-" But further conversation was cut off as Mrs. Weasley looked back in their direction. "Later, then," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

The de-doxying of the curtains took nearly two hours, after which the curtains were soaked. The bucket was full of unconscious doxies, and a bowl of their eggs was sitting beside it; the Weasley twins and Crookshanks were all eyeing it with interest. "Well, now that that's sorted, why don't we do a few of these before lunch?" She indicated the glass-fronted cabinets flanking the mantelpiece that were stuffed with innumerable strange items. "Dante, why don't you get them started while I take this out?" She picked up the bag of dead rats that Sirius had left and carried it out of the room.

"Well, if you say so," he said, shrugging. In a flash of light, the mask, gauntlets, boot-things and wings had all disappeared.

"How did you do that?" Hermione breathed, looking at him in amazement. "You didn't use a wand or even an incantation."

"Well, I don't _have_ to announce what I do every time I do it," he said, a petulant edge to his voice. "I just do it 'cause it's fun."

"That still doesn't answer my question."

"You're right." He strode over to the cabinets, peering through them. "Hmm…it all looks so…boring."

Ron looked over his shoulder at a crystal phial. "Is that…blood?"

"I sure hope so; if we find a statue soon, I'll need all the spare change I can get."

Ron gave Harry a look of utter confusion; a look which was mirrored by the rest of their group.

"Well, anyway, let's get to it. Early birds and stones and all that."

They set about taking the objects from the cabinets one by one; Dante looked each of them over before handing them to Harry, who gave them out to each person to sort. Hermione was put in charge of a set of daggers ("And Sirius said we can take 'em off your hands if they're not cursed" the man had informed her), Ginny a number of snake skins and claws, Fred and George several silver boxes with languages that Harry could read none of, Ron numerous books and himself the phials of blood-looking substance (it seemed there had been more than one hidden behind the first). "Say, Dante…" Harry said to him as the man examined a knife with a wave-like edge, "what were those gloves?"

"Why so curious, kid?" he asked, passing Harry the blade. "…Ah, who am I kidding? I was as curious as you are at your age. Well, don't go spreading it around, but it's called a Devil Arm."

"You mean Devil Arms," said Harry, certain he'd misheard.

"Nope. The gloves, dusters, mask; all of it is what makes up the Devil Arm. That one's called Gilgamesh."

" 'That one'…" He raised an eyebrow. "Is your sword one, too?"

"Not bad; you catch on quickly! Yep, my sword too. Rebellion's its name."

"What is a Devil Arm, exactly?"

"Well, that part's kinda tricky. They're all unique, so it's not like you can pick up some random sword and call it a Devil Arm. But usually you can…" He trailed off, and Harry noticed that everyone else had all paused in their work to listen. "You mind?" They all jumped, hurriedly busying themselves once more as the white-haired man gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry. This isn't really that important for you to know, especially with so many ears."

"Says who? Dumbledore?" he growled under his breath.

"No, but a kid like you wouldn't really understand."

"You're talking to someone who saw the person who murdered his parents growing out the back of another person's head," Harry said irritably.

Dante seemed to be taken slightly aback at that, but composed himself quickly. "Well, I-"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

…However, his response was cut off as the door burst open and something large and hairy raced in the room, followed by Nero, who was swiping with a large net and yelling at the top of his lungs; both flecked with dirt. "Piss off, you old ugly bastard!" The voice came not from Nero, but the creature, which appeared to be a ferret twice its regular size.

"Who's calling whom ugly, you furry-assed little…?!" Nero shouted as he chased the animal around in circles, slamming the net around. "Hold still!"

"Up yours!"

They'd all moved to the borders of the room as the chase tore through the center, upending several chairs and nearly toppling the bucket of doxies; Ginny picked it up as it teetered dangerously from the wake of the two running around.

"I told you to lead it left!" Lady yelled as she ran into the room, carrying an even bigger net on a stick and her clothes also marked with spots of dirt. "Left!"

"I'm TRYING!"

"Get lost! Crusty old blue bugger! Trollop!"

"Watch your mouth, you vulgar little shit!" she snapped, slamming the net down and missing the animal by inches. Nero swiped and missed as well.

"Give up, you berks!"

"Not after what you did, you mouthy little beast!" Nero yelled, brandishing his net violently. "Once I get my hands on you, you stupid hairball, I'll dice you up!" He and Lady chased it around in another circle, and then it darted back out of the room, the other two racing after it. Their shouts carried down the hall until, some moments later, they heard a door slam and the yells cut off.

There was an uneasy silence after the strange procession had left, at which point the red-coated adult handed another dagger to Harry. Dante stared at him for a few moments with a strange expression, and then seemed to relent to himself. "Well…how about this? I'll fill you in after you've had the hearing in a few days. But just you! Tough enough keeping a lid on stuff in this house…"

Once more, the door opened and Mrs. Weasley returned. "What was all that noise?" she said, looking back and forth between them.

"Well…it looked like Nero and…'Lady'…were chasing a jarvey around," Hermione said hesitantly.

"Of course…I told them to be careful with that fireplace because it looked low enough there might be a burrow. I even gave them nets just in case!"

"What's a jarvey?" Dante asked.

She looked mortified. "…I'll be right back."

Mrs. Weasley left again, but mere moments afterward Sirius sidled into the room. "Sounds like someone was having fun. What did I miss?"

"A giant polecat with a potty-mouth," Dante muttered. "Are these all the knives?"

He gave Dante a bemused nod. "You sure are hoarding those things. But at least they're going towards a good cause." He gazed at a tapestry that covered the length of an entire wall. "Kreacher was muttering about this thing under his breath; no doubt my mother's put another Permanent Sticking Charm on it. Don't suppose you've got another helpful solution for us?" he asked, turning to Dante.

"Can I cut it up?"

"Sorry, but if there is a charm on it, you'll damage the wall as well."

"Always a catch, huh?"

Sirius sighed. "Isn't that the truth…" He eyed the tapestry with disgust, and Harry and the others gathered around him to look as well. For the next few minutes, Sirius told them of several unpleasant tales that involved his family. What with Sirius's Death Eater cousin being one of Voldemort's top lieutenants, his brother being another Death Eater, and hearing about the interrelation of the pureblood families, it was difficult to say which Sirius was the most bitter about. "I hate being in this place," he said finally. "I never thought I'd be stuck here again."

They all jumped as the door closed, but it was Mrs. Weasley, who had returned, looking exhausted, with lunch; a tray with several sandwiches and cake. "Tuck in, all of you; we've got a lot of work ahead of us."

As most of them began to dig into their meal, Sirius returned to examining the tapestry, mulling over his frustrations from earlier. "Not hungry?" a voice asked him.

He turned to look at the white-haired man in red. "It's nothing."

"No, it's not."

Sirius sighed. "…No, it's not."

"Getting stir crazy is normal even in a good place. In a place like this…"

"I just…I wouldn't mind if I could get out every now and then. Do something useful for a change. You think Harry could use some support when he goes to his hearing?"

Dante held his chin thoughtfully. "Well…yeah, but actually, I have something else in mind."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"I'll lay it out at the meeting tonight. In the meantime…a merc has to do the dirty jobs. And here, I guess that's literal."

The dark-haired man snorted. "All the dirt in this place? You'd be working for months."

"Good. More money to accept from our gracious host."

"That's all you're here for? You don't enjoy the company?"

"Nope!"

To the surprise of them all, Sirius included, the Black heir gave a bark of laughter.

* * *

During the short lunch, they were met by Nero, whose entire upper body, with the exception of his once more glowing arms, was covered in soot. Without a word, he glared at Dante and pointed a thumb towards the door. The other man shrugged, exiting the door with a grin as Mrs. Weasley fussed over the new arrival's state.

After an embarrassing minute or so for the white-haired adult he was finally clean, and they returned to sorting out the cabinets. They'd only been working for a few minutes when the clanging doorbell rang again. "Wait here," Mrs. Weasley said tiredly, closing the door behind her. She hadn't been gone two seconds when Harry and his friends all ran to the window to look down at the doorstep.

"A-hem!"…At which point, they realized that there was still an Order member with them. "You're not going to saddle me with all this junk alone, are you?" They all backed away from the glass, glancing at Nero; most with guilt, but the twins only showed frustration. "Now, let's try to get this done; I know it sucks, but-"

"THIS IS NOT A HIDEOUT FOR YOUR STOLEN GOODS!" Mrs. Weasley's voice thundered from downstairs.

He sighed in defeat, holding one hand to his forehead and gesturing to the window; it was as good of an invitation for them as any. Moments later, they were all peering down at the scene below; Mrs. Weasley seemed to be advancing on a terrified Mundungus.

"AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THIS HOUSE – A HOUSE WHICH, MIGHT I REMIND YOU, HAS _CHILDREN_ IN IT!"

As her yells continued, the door opened once more, but this time it was neither Sirius nor Dante. A very old house elf shuffled into the room, seeming to take no notice of them as it shambled toward the cabinets. "-filthy sneak thief that dirties the halls of my mistress's house, and she's no better, old blood traitor with her nasty brats…oh, my poor mistress, if only she knew, if only she knew the rabble that walks these noble halls…traitors and killers and werewolves and thieves…oh, poor old Kreacher, lost without his mistress, what should he do…"

"Well, hello there," Nero said evenly, staring straight at the elf.

The elf turned slowly to him. "Kreacher did not see young sir there." He sunk into a bow so low his nose brushed the carpet. He then added, perfectly clearly, "Sir that pretends at majesty, who looks on Kreacher as if he thinks himself better…oh, what would Kreacher's mistress say about him…"

Kreacher stood up straight again, and he and Nero stared at each other with expressions Harry could not decipher. "What brings you here?" the man asked.

The house-elf blinked slowly. "…Kreacher is cleaning."

"There you are!" Yet another person had come into the room; Kyrie this time. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Kreacher's eyes went wide, and as he once more gave a low bow, Harry thought he'd seen something in the old elf's expression soften. "Kreacher bids young miss a hearty welcome back."

"No need to bow on my account," she said warmly. "But I'm glad to be back. What are we doing in here?"

"Cleaning," Nero said simply.

"As is Kreacher," the elf insisted.

"Is that right?" Sirius had returned, and was now giving his house-elf a hard stare. The sounds of Mrs. Weasley's yells had disappeared; either their argument had been resolved, or they'd continued in much quieter voices. His look only intensified when the elf bowed even lower than before. "Cut that out. What are you really up to?" He winced at the sound of Kyrie clearing her throat and muttering something. "…That is…we're a little busy in here already. Please go with the young lady and clean the dining room." The lady in question cleared her throat once more. "…We promise we won't take the tapestry down." Her throat cleared a third time. "…And we'll make sure to save something to give to you."

"As Master says." The orange-haired woman left first, and they could just catch the house-elf's mutters as he followed. "-coming back from Azkaban and ordering poor Kreacher around, good to see he's finally learning manners, oh, if only my poor mistress could have been alive to see it…"

Sirius slammed the door, one of his eyes twitching. "I swear, another two weeks and she'll have him wrapped right around her finger…I don't think I've ever met such a devious-"

"A-HEM."

"-er… _charming_ young woman," he finished, not looking the other man in the eye. "So…shall we?"

More to break the tension than anything else, everyone resumed the task of cleaning the cabinets. Harry was thankful that there was so much to keep them occupied that he didn't have as much time to his thoughts; hearing Kreacher talking about Azkaban had reminded him of his own impending hearing. Very many things seemed quite inclined to stay where they were, and reacted in strange ways when handled.

They'd barely begun their duties when Sirius was bitten by a snuffbox at the same time as Nero had an object scuttle up one of his arms; one that looked as if several sets of tweezers and needles had been fused together. As Sirius's hand developed a nasty, crusty covering, the silver object attempted to puncture Nero's glowing red arm. He watched it with a bemused grin as it tried and failed several times before plucking it up with his other hand. "Aren't you precious?" he said to it as it writhed in his hand, looking almost like a scared metal spider. "I think I'll keep you; Dante could use a good alarm clock." A small light enveloped the object, and as his arm's glow brightened slightly, it disappeared. "You okay?" he asked the dark-haired man.

Sirius nodded, tapping his hand absently with his wand and returning the skin to normal. "Must've been Wartcap powder." He handed the box to the other man, and it too disappeared in a small flash of light. Both the Weasley twins looked extremely put out.

There were a few more books that were sorted through, several ancient seals, an Order of Merlin, First Class, a music box which played a darkly delicate tune when opened that made them feel sleepy and weak until Ginny managed to throw it shut again, and…now what was that?

"Hey. You got any idea about this thing?"

Sirius looked it over as his partner held it up, shaking his head. "Doesn't appear to be cursed. Having trouble working it?"

"Not 'trouble' exactly…can magic things get stuck?"

Sirius tried several ways to unstick it, but to no avail. "Maybe my parents thought they didn't have enough possessions and transfigured a rock," he grumbled. "Sounds like them."

"Mind if I hang onto it?"

"By all means."

Nero gave him a grateful smile, slipping the object into his pocket. _This might go well with that necklace of hers. I should wait until I can get it open, though; want to put pictures inside before I give it to her. Wonder if a jeweler would know about opening one of these?_

They continued cleaning until well into the afternoon, finally stopping when it was time for dinner. As Harry walked into the kitchen, he glimpsed his godfather and Kreacher standing a few steps outside its door, the first with a grumpy look as he handed a large, golden ring to the second…but he didn't get a chance to watch further, as Mrs. Weasley had beckoned him in.

Over the next several days, they continued cleaning up the house (privately, Harry felt as if they were really waging an odd war). As strange as the days were, he preferred how they kept his mind and body busy; when the nights came, all the doubts and fears about his hearing set in. Would he be expelled? Would they take his wand? Would they order him back to the Dursleys'? _No matter what happens, at least I could ask to live with Sirius._

But the dreaded things always approach the fastest, even when bolt-shooting grandfather clocks are in the way. He felt practically numb the night before he was to go to the Ministry, as he questioned how they'd get to the hearing and whether Sirius could come with him. "Sorry, Harry," his godfather said with a grim look. "But I asked last night, and Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea."

The words made his stomach plummet, and he didn't even bother to listen to the next few words. He looked sadly at his plate; it was bad enough that Dumbledore hadn't bothered to tell him in person, but he felt…outnumbered traveling there just with Mr. Weasley.

* * *

 _Later that night…_

"I still think this is absurd."

"We voted, and you lost. Let's keep it constructive, shall we?"

There was a long-suffering sigh. "This will only last for a few weeks at the rate he'll need to take them. Must I really spend a full day out of every month just so a desperate glory-seeker can-"

"We need every single pair of hands we can get. Unless you're volunteering?"

"We both know my absence would be noticed immediately. Even by the more…unobservant."

"Would you just stop griping and make the damn thing already?!"


	5. Chapter 5: Meandering Thru the Ministry

Chapter 5: Meandering Through the Ministry

Harry woke the next morning at five-o-clock on the dot. Not out of planning, and not from a nightmare (though that dream about the endless doors and hallways was confusing). He didn't really know why, but he was fully awake, and so decided to make use of his time by dressing quickly enough to keep the disciplinary hearing out of his mind. Not only did it not work, it also made him so distracted it took him a few moments to realize his jeans were backwards and his shirt inside out.

After sorting those issues (which an apparently empty picture frame seemed to find amusing), he left the room, giving the snoring Ron a backwards glance and trying not to think about if they'd ever go to Hogwarts together again. He trudged down the stairs, a pit where his stomach was supposed to be.

Harry had expected the kitchen to be empty, but to his surprise, it was full to bursting when he'd opened the door. Lupin, Kyrie, Tonks, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Nero and Sirius were all sitting around the table and deep in conversation, which stopped as he entered. None of them seemed surprised to see Harry; in fact, they almost looked like they were expecting him.

"Good morning," Kyrie said kindly. "What can we get you for breakfast?"

The truth was that he wasn't sure if he could eat anything, but she seemed to read his expression.

"There's not much benefit to an empty stomach. Even if it isn't much, you should eat something."

"Well…just toast or something, thanks," he said. She nodded, and rose to begin preparing him breakfast, Mrs. Weasley joining her. Lupin offered Harry a seat, and he took a place at the already crowded table.

The table returned to its previous level of activity. Tonks and Lupin began talking about the Auror office, and Mr. Weasley began asking Nero questions about how his home was able to handle both electricity and magic. "All right, Harry?" Sirius asked him. He nodded nervously, but didn't trust himself to speak. "It'll be okay. Keep your head about you, be polite, and don't lose sight of the facts."

Mrs. Weasley handed him a stack of toast and some marmalade, and the others tried to reassure him as he ate. Apparently, he'd be in Amelia Bones's office for his hearing, she would hear him out, and the law was on his side. It was difficult to keep focus, though; his head was buzzing with worry. All too soon, Mr. Weasley, who was to be taking him to the Ministry, said it was time to go.

Sirius patted him on the shoulder. "You'll come out fine. And if you don't…"

"We'll bust you out," Nero said, grinning. "We're getting kinda good at it, now…"

"Nero!" Mrs. Weasley said in shock, but Harry gave a snort of amusement. A little of the worry seemed to ease off of him, but the idea that he might actually lose… "Harry's not going to be convicted, so there's no need for _that_."

"You'll be fine, Harry," Tonks encouraged him.

"Good luck, Harry," Lupin said. "It'll be all right, you'll see."

Mrs. Weasley hugged him, and then it was time to go. He followed Mr. Weasley as he made his way to the door, but stopped in surprise when he realized Nero was following them. "You're not coming with, are you?"

"How else am I supposed to know whether to bust in and get you out?" he asked pointedly. "'Sides, it'll be a good opportunity to get a look at the local government firsthand. 'Know others and yourself', and all that."

He looked at Mr. Weasley, who simply gave a nod. The three left Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the door clicking shut behind them.

Their route to the Ministry of Magic was not by Floo or Portkey, but rather entirely Muggle means. Mr. Weasley said that it was to make a better impression, given the charges, but Harry thought he might have been having a bit too much fun with the whole situation. They purchased their tickets from a guard (as the automatic ticket stalls were out of order); a guard who was so tired that Harry wondered if the man was actually exchanging tickets out in his sleep. Not long after, they'd boarded their train, which sped off for the centre of London.

As they journeyed towards their destination, Harry noticed that with each stop the train made, Nero seemed slightly more bothered. He wondered if it was because Mr. Weasley kept checking the underground map, but couldn't bring himself to ask Ron's father to compose himself when he was so wonderstruck.

They finally exited the train, making their way to ground level. Without incident, they reached the street (already full of traffic despite the early time of morning) and Mr. Weasley led them down a side road. As they walked further and further, the buildings around them became less tall and impressive, until they'd stopped at an old red telephone box near several tiny offices and a rundown pub with an overflowing skip. "Erm…is this it?"

"Indeed," Mr. Weasley said, showing them inside. It was a tight fit, made no less comfortable by all three of them having to wedge themselves inside. Somehow, they managed it, though Harry had to hand Mr. Weasley the phone receiver after he'd tried and failed to reach for it. "Now…let's see here…"

"You…uh…don't need to fix it or something?" the white-haired adult asked.

"No, no, it's fine…ah, it's a six…then a two…then four...then four again…and another two."

A cool female voice rang out inside the box, causing everybody but Mr. Weasley to jump. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

Clearly unsure of whether to answer into the receiver or not, he handed it to Nero and spoke loudly and clearly. "Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter for a disciplinary hearing."

"Nero. Here on business," the man said, and left it at that.

"Thank you. Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

"Making a few assumptions…" Nero grumbled as he pulled two objects from the coin return slot and handing one to Harry. His read "Nero: Business". _…Sure, why not._

They were both pinning them as best they could when the female voice spoke again. "Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

That piqued Harry's interest. He and Mr. Weasley had wands, but what would Nero do? He'd never seen the white-haired man draw a wand of any kind. Before he had much time to ponder this matter, the box had descended, taking them underground.

As he gazed at the entry hall of the Ministry of Magic, Harry's mouth fell open. There was so much to look at; the fountain, the fireplaces people kept arriving out of, the people Apparating in every few moments…so many _people_ …

But Mr. Weasley hurried them over to a desk near golden gates. At the desk sat a security guard wearing blue robes and nose-deep in a Daily Prophet. "I'm escorting visitors," Mr. Weasley informed him.

The guard set down the newspaper, a thoroughly bored look on his badly-shaven face. "Step over here," he said, in a tone as equally bored as his expression. Nero and Harry lined up next to the desk, and the man produced a small object that looked something like a golden car aerial. He passed it up and down the two before stuffing it back into his robes. "Wand," he grunted at Nero. Nero drew a wand from his coat, handing it to the guard. The guard set it on a strange-looking device that resembled a scale, but with only one dish. The scale vibrated for a moment, and then a slip of parchment slid rapidly from the base. The man tore the parchment off, scanning it with reluctant scrutiny. "Nine inches, with a core of dragon heartstring; been in use fifteen years. Is this right?"

Nero nodded, and Harry felt his curiosity rise even higher. In use for fifteen years? Then why had he never used it at Number 12 Grimmauld Place? Was he perhaps uncomfortable with it?

"I keep this," the guard said in reference to the parchment, which he impaled on a spike on the desk. "You get this back." He handed Nero the wand back. "Next."

Harry did the same as Nero had done, and to his immense relief, he too was allowed to keep his wand. It was only after a few moments that, while staring dully at Nero's hair, the guard seemed to notice Harry's scar, at which point his eyes seemed to clear. "Hang on…"

"Thank you, Eric," Mr. Weasley snapped, leading them through the gates. Mr. Weasley greeted a man holding a cardboard box as the small group joined with a larger queue filing into a lift. Once inside, Harry noticed several witches and wizards dividing their curious stares between him and Nero. Perhaps he was imagining things, but it seemed that just as he noticed this, the blue-coated man shifted his posture slightly, and then all he could see of the elevator was Nero's coat and Mr. Weasley to his left.

The lift descended down a floor, and once the grille opened, several paper aeroplanes zoomed in of their own accord. "Interdepartmental memos," Mr. Weasley informed him. "The Ministry used to use owls, but…"

"But owls eat," Nero pointed out, "and that has to go someplace eventually."

"Yes. Or, as the case was, several places…"

The grille shut again, and the lift descended a second time before stopping.

"Level Six. Department of Magical Transportation; incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey-"

"Well, this is me. Give 'em hell, Harry." And without further ado, Nero strode out of the elevator.

"Wait, where are you going?" Harry asked the white-haired man.

"Don't worry, I won't be far if something goes wrong; just got a few things to do while I'm here. You'll be fine." He waved to Harry, and then strode off through the corridor, the elevator grate closing once more. Oddly enough, nobody seemed to be brave enough to stare at him anymore.

Curious.

* * *

"Let's see…" Nero muttered to himself as he strode down the corridor. There were several large customer service windows, all of which seemed to be staffed by a person either half-awake or hidden behind a newspaper. Upon spotting the right one, he made his way to it, where a frazzled-looking woman ( _witch_ , he reminded himself) with curly hair was transcribing something on a piece of parchment. _A great big feather quill and everything,_ he mused. _Bet they mark it down in the history books the day they discover pencils…_ He cleared his throat. "Hello?"

"I'll be with you in a moment," she said distractedly.

He waited, tapping his foot very slowly; after a full two minutes, he decided he'd waited enough. "'Scuse me, miss."

She turned her head sharply "I'm sorry, but I simply-" Her eyes went wide, roving his face.

 _Seriously, you too? Is it so strange to have white hair?_ The stares on the train had been one thing, but this was a bit too much.

She cleared her throat, absently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "M-my apologies! How can I help you, sir?"

"I'm here to have a fireplace connected to the network. Here's the address," he said, handing her a note.

"Very well," she said as she scanned the note. She waved her wand behind her, and a wooden drawer full of papers came walking over to her. "Let's see here…" She tapped the drawer, and a sheaf of parchment flew out, hovering under her nose and spreading itself out. "…You're in luck. The building in question hasn't been in use for some time, but it's not far from another wizarding residence." Her eyebrows raised as he set a bag full of coins in front of her. "…And that would take care of the setup fee, I presume?"

"It's all there. Have a look for yourself."

She nodded, a slight bit of color rising in her cheeks. "Of course." She opened it, and a few moments later (very few, in Nero's opinion), she met his eyes once more. "It seems to be in order. We can have you connected within seven to fourteen days."

"Lookin' forward to it," he said with a smile.

"…Have a nice day, sir," she said breathlessly.

 _That was way too easy_ he thought to himself as he walked away. _I didn't even need to show her the deed I brought or prove it was up to code. Maybe they'll look it up between now and when they come?_ The whole system was a little too fourteenth century for his liking. Shrugging, he continued to his next destination.

After a few more stops on two other floors, his business at the Ministry was finished, and Nero returned to the Atrium. With nothing else to do until he heard word from Arthur or the Potter kid, he found himself loitering at the fountain near the middle. He looked it over, feeling mildly amused despite himself staring at the sculptures of the humans, elf, goblin and centaur. _…I'm no art critic, but something just seems off about this thing._

 _Ugh, I know,_ Karkinos muttered from within his mind. _The sculptor clearly had great skill, but zero taste._

 _I have difficulty telling whether the creator was naïve or arrogant,_ Ascalon added. _Some humans seem to have a habit of assuming all other creatures look up to you, rather than simply looking at you._

 _Still, this is not unsalvageable,_ Karkinos reassured them. _The best change you can make is to arrange them in positions as if they are charging into battle together. A simple statement, but a powerful one; it lets the humans feel powerful while implying to the other species that they are all equals. That's the kind of message that everyone likes to hear; deep down, even demons respect the power of teamwork._

Nero blinked. _Huh. That was…weirdly awesome for you, Karki. Not bad._

 _Thank you. And once you've changed the pose of the statues, don't underestimate the simple alterations. Swap out the water, and this could be a lovely blood fountain._

 _Aaaaaand there it is._ Nero rolled his eyes, turning around to look back at the golden gates that were opening and closing to exchange the passengers of the elevators. It seemed that little time had passed before the unmistakable figure of Dumbledore strode past him. The wizard gave him a nod and the smallest of smiles, and Nero relaxed. The Headmaster continued past, and there was the softest of pops as he did that thing that wizards could do to disappear. A few minutes later, Harry and Arthur had returned as well. "What's the verdict?" Nero asked, though judging from the grin on the kid's face, he could guess.

"Cleared on all charges," Harry answered, extremely pleased with himself.

"Nice. I guess it wasn't as bad as it seemed after all."

"Merlin's _beard_ , I wish that were it," Mr. Weasley said, visibly restraining his indignation. "He wasn't in Amelia Bones's office after all; they had it down in one of the old courtrooms, and he was tried by the full Wizengamot. What they were thinking, I haven't the foggiest…"

Nero blinked. "Huh. Well, that's not so bad. Courtrooms give you more room to move if you gotta fight your way out."

"Really?" asked Harry with interest. "What are the wizard courtrooms like in America?"

He gulped. "Oh, well…I wouldn't know. I, er, haven't really ever done anything illegal in my life." Even Kyrie would have said that was stretching the truth right up to breaking point, and given Harry's raised eyebrow, he wasn't fooled either. "…And got caught," he amended. "Still, good to hear you made it through okay."

He grinned again. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Well, I'll let you take him back," Arthur said to the young man. "I've got a regurgitating toilet to sort out in Bethnal Green."

Nero stared at the other man for several moments. "You know what, I don't wanna know. Need me to take a message back to Molly?"

"No, thanks. But take this back to…well, you can guess." He handed a small magazine to the swordsman. "Congratulations again, Harry." Arthur patted the teen on the shoulder and departed in the direction of one of the fires.

"Ready to head back, then?" Nero asked his young charge.

"Almost." Harry walked closer to the fountain, taking a bag from inside his robes. He looked at the statues that made up the fountain for a few moments before opening the bag and turning it over, dumping a small pile of coins into the pool at the base of the fountain.

"Huh. You shoulda said something before we left; I already spent all my money."

 _You could always drop that solid gold shield in,_ suggested Ascalon.

 _What, you don't think that might be too subtle?_ Nero thought back.

 _You excel at combat in many forms, Sir Nero, but even with that arm of yours, subtlety will always elude you._

 _You sure do have a lot of words for saying "no"._

"Nero?"

He shook himself. "Yeah, sorry, just spacin' off. Let's head out."

* * *

"He got off, he got off, he got off…"

Once Harry had returned to Grimmauld Place, everyone had been congratulatory towards him. He was enjoying it, of course, but he also felt a bit uncomfortable. Understandable, really, with all the extra attention. Fred, George and Ginny had all linked arms and started chanting gleefully…

"He got off, he got off, he got off…"

It was kind of infectious, honestly. Kyrie was beaming, Dante was grinning from ear to ear, and even Lady couldn't keep a smile off her face. They couldn't tell if Nero was smiling, as he was behind a frothing mug of butterbeer, but since he'd been smirking as they returned, it was highly likely.

"He got off, he got off, he got off…"

Everyone seemed a little more cheerful, but…

"THAT'S ENOUGH, you three!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

…Maybe the chanting _was_ getting a bit old. Still, Harry felt his heart swell with relief as he ate lunch with Ron and Hermione. He could still go to Hogwarts…no, he _would_ go to Hogwarts…everything seemed to be a lot less gloomy because of that.

The only sour note to the meal was when he felt a stab of resentment at Dumbledore's distance from him, which was immediately followed by his scar burning. Hermione and Ron were both worried, but he managed to calm them down as the pain subsided; for a split-second, he'd thought that Nero had been watching as he clutched his scar, but when Harry looked again, the man was in deep conversation with Lady. Seeing him reminded Harry that there were several things he'd noticed about Nero that he wanted to ask the white-haired man. He'd have to find a chance to talk while they were still in the same house; there wasn't much time before he, Hermione, and the Weasleys returned to Hogwarts. It was a task that would no doubt be difficult, since Mrs. Weasley seemed determined to fill all free time available with the tasks they'd been doing since Harry had arrived.

As the next few days passed by, and they'd returned to their misadventures with "cleaning", Harry had the impression that, try as he might, Sirius was not altogether happy about his hearing's outcome. He'd certainly seemed cheerful enough when Harry had announced being cleared, but his godfather had a strange, wistful look about him at times when he thought Harry was not looking.

When he'd confided some of these things to Hermione and Ron while they were cleaning mould out of a ground-floor room, she suggested that perhaps a small part of him had hoped that if Harry were convicted, they'd be outlaws together. Ron and Harry both scoffed at this, but she suggested that perhaps what Mrs. Weasley had declared (that Sirius saw Harry as James rather than himself) was true. Harry had prepared to counter this suggestion heatedly, but they ducked out of the way of a spray of nasty smelling liquid, and he had to drop the topic for the time being.

"It's a Bundimun!" Hermione informed them, throwing her sponge aside and fumbling for her wand. "Shield Charms!" Harry reached for his own wand, looking at where the liquid had come from. He saw what looked to be a large patch of mould with several yellow eyes, all of which were fixed on them. The three of them cast at the same time, their Shield Charms forming a multi-layered translucent wall mere seconds before there were several more jets of acid that impacted their new barriers. "We need some help!" she called out loudly.

To their fortune, the door burst open and Dante raced inside. "What's the problem?"

"A Bundimun cluster!"

"…Uh..."

"They spit acid, now help us!" Their shields were holding, but the constant sprays of acid were starting to run down the barriers and dissolve the floor in front of them.

There was a rattle of chains, and those three light-blue rods appeared in Dante's hands again. "You guys need to chill out!" He whipped one of the rods at the floor, and several ice spikes formed over the angered beasts.

A few moments later, there was silence, and the trio of wizards cautiously lowered their charms. Ron moved in to look at the Bundimuns through the ice; they seemed to be frozen solid. "I think that's sorted them."

"Phew…glad we could all keep a cool head." The white-haired adult tucked the object back into his coat. "I don't have any experience with those things; you guys might wanna get Molly in here to make sure they don't need anything extra."

Ron nodded, heading for the door. Hermione followed, giving the man a critical look as she passed by him, before exiting the room as well. Harry, however, hadn't moved. "You used that on Sirius's mum's painting. It's another Devil Arm, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Yep. I'm guessing you noticed it has ice powers."

"Does it have a name too?"

"All Devil Arms do. That one is Cerberus."

"'Cerberus'?"

"Giant, three-headed dog? I don't think you've met."

Harry gave a start. "I think I have, actually. But wasn't it called Fluffy?"

Dante gave a great snort of laughter. "Nothing 'fluffy' about that puppy. Did yours have glowing eyes and shoot ice when you fought it?"

"Well…'fought' isn't exactly what we did. All we had to do was put him to sleep with some music and we moved right by."

The man gaped at him. "…It was that easy all along?! If Lady hears about this…" He held his chin in his hand. "Still, got a Devil Arm out of it, so it all worked out. Speaking of which, don't I owe you an-"

"Oh, thank heavens you're all right!" The door opened and Mrs. Weasley entered the room, throwing her arms around Harry. "If I'd have known that there was an infestation like that here…" She broke off, letting go of him and surveying the white-haired man's handiwork. "…Not the standard way to tackle a Bundimun colony, but it seems to have worked. Well, we'll need to let them sit for a while to make sure; Dante, why don't you go help Nero with the second floor, and Harry, you can help Ron and Hermione in another room down here."

The man shrugged. "Another time, eh, kid?" He patted Harry on the shoulder and left the room.

As the end of the holidays approached, Harry experienced the usual longing to return to Hogwarts that visited every summer. While there was no shortage of excitement to be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place (a more recent task had been to tackle a nest of Glumbumbles that had taken over an aged wasp nest in the dark space under the stairs), his thoughts dwelled more and more on visiting Hagrid, playing Quidditch, learning new spells, taking trips to Hogsmeade, and all the other wonderful things that awaited during the school year.

He'd received an unexpected surprise when their book lists came, though; Ron and Hermione received prefect badges…which made them the prefects for Gryffindor…and not him. While he hadn't been holding out for it, nor had he even given it any thought with all the things that had happened during the summer, it made him feel somewhat…excluded. Hadn't he done so much for Hogwarts, and Dumbledore too? The image of Dumbledore striding away from him at the hearing flickered through his mind. Had he done something to offend? Was there something lacking in his abilities? What had he done wrong?

He turned it over in his mind several times. The more he thought about it, though, both Ron and Hermione had accompanied him throughout all the adventures they'd had so far. Without them…would he really have been able to do all those things? Was this, perhaps, a lesson from Dumbledore that his friends were invaluable? But he already knew that…

Harry shook his head in exasperation. _Dumbledore has an entire school to think about. Maybe he sees something in them that I can't. Or maybe there's some other reason that I don't understand._ Whatever the case was, he had other things to worry about, and in the end he decided that he'd much prefer to be proud of Ron than sulky and alone.

Mrs. Weasley was extremely pleased with both Ron and Hermione; buying her youngest son a broomstick as a congratulatory present (not top-of-the-line, but respectable nonetheless) while she was in Diagon Alley to buy books. That night, they held a party for the new prefects in the kitchen; several members of the Order were in attendance, as were their American friends.

Once everyone had a drink given to them (aside from Moody, who as usual only drank from his hip flask), they toasted Ron and Hermione, and all of them took seats at the kitchen table. Harry, though trying his utmost to be happy for his friends, still felt an uncomfortable tension being there.

After talking briefly with Fred, George, and Mundungus (in which he accidentally convinced the latter to trade the twins items for far less than he'd intended), Harry found himself wandering over to the end of the table where Nero and Dante sat, chatting amongst themselves. "Hey, kid," Dante said cheerfully. "Have a seat."

Shrugging, Harry took one. "Do you two have prefects where you come from?"

Nero shook his head. "Neither of us had what you'd call 'standard education'. I was raised by a religious order on an island, and…"

"I wasn't," Dante said simply, without elaborating.

"And both of us kick back against authority too much to be something like a prefect. Still, always good to have something to celebrate. Gotta appreciate what you can," he said sagely.

Harry considered this, drinking his butterbeer slowly. For some reason, even though he didn't know what to say, he didn't feel like moving to another table. There was a sense of simple calm here; he found himself a bit jealous. "Is it hard, being a mercenary?" He hadn't intended to ask anything at all, so it was a surprise hearing himself asking the question.

Dante gave a somewhat tired smile. "It is, in its own way. But it's not so bad. You pick up friends along the way." He nodded towards Nero, and then frowned. "Well…people to tolerate, anyway."

Harry laughed as Nero rolled his eyes. Some of the tension seemed to be fading. There were so many questions he wanted to ask them; so many things he was burning to know, now that he'd been exposed to other types of magic. "So, these Devil Arms you have…can anyone master them, or just you two?"

That seemed to have both of them taken aback. Nero frowned, looking at his drink as if it was giving him advice. Dante, after a few moments' reflection, said "Well, not just anyone. But a normal human? I dunno."

"All of them are looking for a strong person to wield them. And if you don't have strong willpower, you've got no chance of mastering one," Nero offered.

"Do you think there are any around here?" Harry wondered aloud.

Both of them exchanged looks. "…You never know," Dante said cryptically.

Harry was prevented from asking further when Mrs. Weasley called for Dante, and Nero went to speak with Lupin. Somewhat disappointed, he wandered back past the table again.

* * *

Soon after, the Devil Hunter strode into the drawing room, closing the door behind him. "How do I get roped into these things?" he wondered aloud. "I was actually kinda enjoying that party…" He turned towards his intended target, staring curiously at the writing desk. It had been rattling every now and then as he approached the room (according to his supernatural hearing, anyway), but the instant he'd entered, it had instantly stopped. He walked over to it, rapping the top with his knuckles.

…Nothing.

Whatever this "boggart" thing was, it sure was shy. He tapped his foot, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. After a few seconds, he nodded, his decision made. _They've got magic wands that fix everything; let's speed this along._ In one casual motion, he picked up the writing desk and hurled it at the far wall of the room, where it exploded into countless fragments of wood and metal. He leaned slightly to his left to avoid a bolt that ricocheted towards him, and then turned his attention back to the remains of the desk. His eyes went wide, and the red-clothed man actually stumbled backwards slightly.

Trish was lying in the center of the debris, countless slash marks across her body. His fellow Devil Hunter was face-up and motionless, her unfocused eyes frozen in a look of despair as she lay in a pool of her own blood. She was unmistakably dead, and from the look of her, it hadn't been pleasant or quick.

Dante stared in horror at her body. She couldn't be dead…they'd only just got here; she couldn't be…

 _Wait, how the hell did she get here? And why didn't I sense her? And wouldn't the Order have mentioned if she showed up?_

He pointed a finger at her. "The hell kinda game do you think you're playing?" he growled. "Get up; I don't care what you are, you're wasting my time."

Slowly, as if on strings, she rose to her feet. Her head lolled as her body faced him, and he could see a large gash across the front of her neck. _"You let me die…"_ she hissed at him as she took a shaky step forward, moving as if she were a puppet. _"They came for revenge…and you were gone. I held them off…for a while. But there were too many…"_

He drew Ebony, pointing it at the fake Trish. However, he did not fire. "You might have her face, but you're not real. You're a fake."

She gave a rasping laugh, and then with a sound like a whip crack, she'd changed into someone else. Eva's body was before him, covered in wounds identical to when he'd last seen it. _"You failed the real thing as well. You were supposed to protect me, Dante…but you let your mother die."_ Then she made a shambling step towards him.

His left hand was trembling slightly. "I was a kid. Don't lay that guilt trip on me; I was eight, dammit!"

With another whip-crack sound, Eva had become his brother, dressed in his "Nelo Angelo" armor from when Dante had last fought him. _"But you couldn't save me either, could you?"_ His voice was echoing softly, as it had done when Dante had been unaware of the knight's true identity, but now he could just make out the voice of his brother coming from the pale mouth. Its eyes, unlike the real Nelo Angelo's, were pitch black, and they narrowed at him as it spoke again. _"What's your excuse for that?"_

"How the hell was I supposed to know it was you?! I thought you'd died!"

" _It wasn't obvious? The identical fighting style…the blue flames…the spectral swords…even the clue where seeing your amulet was painful should have tipped you off. Or…perhaps you didn't want to notice after all?"_ It came another shaky step closer. _"Maybe…you_ _ **wanted**_ _to kill me?"_

"Liar! Shut your mouth!" he snarled.

"Dante? What's going on? Who is that?"

He turned his head at the new voice; Harry had come into the room. _How long has he…?_ "Get outta here, kid!" snapped Dante. "This thing can change into-" But he froze. A sound was coming from the direction of the thing that had taken the forms of his loved ones. It was one he hadn't heard in nearly twenty years, but he'd never forget it. He turned back towards the mockery of Vergil.

It had stopped advancing towards him. It gave a sudden tremble, as if the thing itself was afraid of what it was doing. There was a wild spasm, and it changed once more. This time, however, there was not a whip-crack, but a loud crumbling noise mixed with a low rumble like thunder. The being had changed into lights. Three large, red lights, with arcs of pitch-black lightning snapping between them.

"You…"

Another laugh reverberated all around them. Harry couldn't understand what he was seeing, but he felt as if he were rooted to the spot, even as the thing's laughs seemed to shake the very building itself. He had a sudden wild impression that the floating red lights were eyes, though eyes of what, he couldn't have guessed. And then, it was as if they spoke.

" _ **I WILL TAKE EVERYTHING FROM YOU, DANTE. NOTHING IS SAFE FROM MY GRASP."**_

Something seemed to unlock in Harry's brain. Dante had said it could change into things, and the only thing Harry could think of that would change into things that terrified people would be a…

" _Riddikulus!_ "

Harry's spell hit the lights, and they shook slightly in the air. A few moments later, they had turned into fireflies, though exceptionally large in size. "We might not have a jar big enough for those."

The man in red gave a loud snort of laughter, and the fireflies burst into wisps of smoke. He put the black gun away, somewhat ashen faced as he turned to look at Harry. "What're you doing in here? I thought you were livin' it up at the party."

"Mrs. Weasley told me you'd come up here. You didn't have a wand, so I thought you might have trouble with the boggart."

Dante gave him a searching look for a few moments, before sighing in resignation. "…Looks like you got me on that. Thanks for the assist, kid."

"What was all that?" He was quite willing to overlook how the man had addressed him in favor of more information about what had just happened.

"That's the first one of those things I've ever seen, so you tell me."

Harry stared. That an adult wizard could be so ignorant about magical creatures was _extremely_ odd. And why would the Order want to hire such a person? "That was a boggart. It can turn into what we fear the most."

"Ahh," said the man in understanding, nodding. "That clears it up."

"Who were those people?"

"You saw most of that, huh?" Dante gave a very long sigh. "…Let's just say you're not the only one to have your family taken from you." The man in red stared at him, and for the briefest of moments Harry could see a glimpse of emotion; the very same emotion that came over him when he looked at old wizard photographs of his parents… "Well, I'm gonna call it a day. Don't raise too much hell." Dante trudged away, and Harry felt as if he should say something, but the Order member had left before he could think of anything.

* * *

CHAPTER END

Author's Note: And there we have it, the first five chapters of Devils of the Order! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you noticed any mistakes or typos, let me know and I'll sort them out right away. Or, if you just want to ask a question, or comment, or anything really, just send me a message; I love hearing from all of you!


	6. Chapter 6: To King's Cross And Beyond

Chapter 6: To King's Cross and Beyond

Lady woke to find her clothes, along with Dante's, laid out on the table in their bedroom, freshly laundered and without a wrinkle to be found. It would have been an incredibly touching gesture had she not noticed one tiny little flaw with her clothes in particular…

"Molly, are you there?" she called out in a very delicately even tone as she got out of her bed. "I was wondering if you come in here, please?"

The door opened, and Molly stuck her head inside. "Oh, good morning, Lady. I've taken the liberty of cleaning your clothes for you; you might not be students, but always good to look your best on the first of term."

"And I appreciate that, truly. But-"

"Oh, no trouble at all. I'd best wake up the boys, Ron always sleeps quite heavily."

" _But_ ," she repeated before the woman could duck out of the doorway again, "I couldn't help but notice my clothes are a bit…different."

Unseen behind her, Dante had gotten out of his own bed and gone from barely awake to battle-ready in the span of two seconds, and he was edging away from her as quietly as possible.

Molly's smile tightened the smallest degree. "The weather will be getting cold soon, and as those are the only clothes you have to wear, they should be more comfortable now."

"How very considerate of you." Lady's already frosty tone had gone several degrees colder. "When were you thinking of telling me about the additions you've made?"

"There are several things to prepare this morning, and cleaning your clothes for you is only one of them; it must have slipped my mind."

Dante gulped. _No. Not doin' it. I'm bailing outta this room until the storm passes. Just gotta get Nero's attention, and…_ He looked over to the other bed. It was completely empty and made, as if no one had slept in it last night; he'd no doubt made his escape while Dante had been waking up. _You traitor!_

* * *

Harry woke as suddenly as if someone had shouted right next to him. He blinked, and then heard several more shouts somewhere below them. It sounded like two women were arguing with each other. He looked over at Ron, who had a look of recognition on his face. "Mum. Let's get dressed; we don't want to give her anything more to shout about." They pulled their clothes on at top speed, heading down the stairs to the kitchen (Harry couldn't help but notice that the block of ice was still covering the portrait of Sirius's mother).

They entered to find Nero and Sirius drinking coffee, while Hermione was reading the _Daily Prophet_. "You'd better eat quickly," she warned. "We'll be leaving for the train station soon, and you'll need to get your bags ready."

"What about you?" Ron countered, sitting down next to a plate of kippers and helping himself. "You don't look very hurried."

"I packed last night. Oh, which reminds me, Harry, Hedwig's come back from delivering my letter to Mum and Dad and _what is so funny_?!" she snapped at Nero, who had been snickering behind her since Harry and Ron had come in.

"Sorry," the man with white hair said, though he didn't really look sorry. "But I saw that argument comin' a mile away, so I got out _immediately_. Dante's stuck in there because he slept in. I should feel bad for him, but…"

Ron snorted, nearly losing a chunk of food in the process. Hermione gave a disgusted sigh, returning to her newspaper.

"And I thought I'd be free of the yelling after my Mum's portrait went quiet," Sirius grumbled. "I'm almost starting to miss her…"

"Where's Kyrie?" Harry asked Nero, taking a slice of toast from a plate.

"She's out running a few errands for the Order. She said to tell you sorry she won't be able to go with to the station, but she'll look forward to Christmas vacation. I'll be headed out soon, too, actually, but I wanted to pass the message-"

The kitchen door swung open abruptly, revealing Dante in a pair of black boxers. "You," he growled, pointing at Nero accusingly as he stomped into the room. "You. Suck. _So_ much."

Nero set his coffee down, shaking with laughter as the door slammed behind the other white-haired man. "Be honest; you would've done the same thing."

The shouting halted abruptly, but Dante took no notice. "Do you have _any_ idea how bad it was in there?! One pissed-off person blocking the doorway, another pissed-off person who throws knives at moving objects on instinct, and no way to make myself invisible…"

Hermione lowered her paper to stare at him. "How on earth did you get out, then?" She then blinked, and Harry caught a blush creeping onto her face as she quickly raised the paper back up.

"You do NOT want to know. _Trust_ me on that one."

The door opened again, and Lady stepped inside. Her clothes were different from last night; they were still white, but they'd lengthened considerably, completely covering everything below her neck. It looked like some sort of cross between a motorbike racer's outfit and a business suit, with a thick fur collar around her neck. "There's no way you're going out in public like that," she said, glaring at Dante.

"True. Did you win or lose?"

She stared daggers at him for several seconds before responding. "We have an…understanding. Now get. Dressed." He shrugged, leaving the room. She turned her steely gaze to Sirius next. "Please tell me there's some hardy food for breakfast; I need to stab something."

Ron began pushing the plate of kippers in her direction, not daring to meet her eyes. Sirius, however, was unfazed. "We've got a little of everything. But play nice with my cutlery, would you? I just finished un-bending the forks from the last meal."

She dropped into a chair on Ron's other side, taking a fork from the place setting and impaling several sausages to drag onto her plate. Hermione looked up from her paper; torn between worry and amusement at the look of quiet panic on Ron's face. A few moments later, the bushy-haired girl turned to Nero. "You said she was out doing errands. Order business, I take it?"

"Yep. Even top-secret organizations gotta do the day-to-day stuff. I'd say you'll find out when you're older, but I sure hope you don't have to."

The kitchen door opened once again, and Dante strode back in. His clothes were quite different from what he'd been wearing the days prior, in nearly every single aspect apart from a generous helping of red. Lady stopped eating to look him over with approval. The red pants, the red three-buckled vest over a long black shirt, black boots and gloves…they were identical to one of his previous outfits, back when she'd met Trish for the first time. "I haven't seen you wear that outfit in years. What's the occasion?"

"The other one was starting to get a bit too normal, and I was feeling nostalgic. Molly's one heck of a pro; she whipped up these bad boys overnight using the old stuff, and I only gave her a basic outline. Whaddya think?"

She chewed her food, pondering her answer. She thought that the outfit suited him perfectly; he'd started wearing it not long after they'd cleaned up the mess at Temen-Ni-Gru, and it had been such a huge letdown when she'd walked into his office one day and he was wearing new clothes without so much as a mention of the others. But that was Dante; his style suited his whims, and this time his whims were calling for something familiar. Good for him.

"Eh, it's been done before." …Not that she was actually going to give him the honest answer; his ego was already oversized.

"Ah, you love it, I know." He turned his gaze to Harry. "Just make sure you've got all your stuff; we're heading to the station soon, and I don't wanna have to run back and grab someone's owl or something."

Harry nearly choked on his toast. "You're coming with us?"

Lady nodded. "Moody wanted to send a whole group, but we talked him down so that it's a little less suspicious." She finished her breakfast and looked at the paper in Hermione's hands. "Mind if I borrow that when you're done?"

"I thought Voldemort was supposed to be laying low!" Harry said irritably as Hermione handed the woman the _Prophet_. "Do I really need to be guarded at a public place like King's Cross? Are they worried he'll jump out from under a turnstile?"

"You're the one who's seen someone disguise himself as a rat, you tell me."

Harry stared narrowly at the older woman, angry at both the fact that she brought the matter up and the fact that she did have a point.

"Public places are always the most dangerous," Lady continued, ignoring his stare. "If someone knows how to blend into a crowd, you could be dead before you know it. Used to hear an old story about an assassin who dressed up similar to a monk; he'd gotten quite the body count before anyone caught onto him."

"Hey, c'mon, cut the kid some slack." Dante swiped the last slice of toast, winking at her. "We'll be there to watch out for him. And last time I checked, we're damn good at what we do."

"…There is that," Lady allowed, a small smirk crossing her face as she unfolded the paper.

Ten minutes later, with Hedwig in her cage and his trunk full of all his school things, Harry hurried down the stairs, joining the group of Fred, George, Ron, Dante and Sirius at the bottom. "Oh, good, you're here," said Ron once he'd arrived. "Mum's going spare; says we'll miss the train if we don't leave in the next five minutes."

"Say, Dante," Sirius muttered in a low voice. "Have you given some thought to the…matter we discussed?"

The man in red grinned. "No worries. I've already taken care of that." He folded his arms at the curious looks everyone was giving him. "Top secret, Order business, hush-hush, all that stuff," he rattled off.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Where are Hermione and Ginny?" he asked.

"Ginny couldn't find one of her spellbooks, so they're looking for it," Ron informed him. "They'd better find it soon; Mum's got her temper up as it is."

As if they'd heard his comment, Ginny and Hermione were hurrying downstairs mere moments later. "Got it?" Dante asked. Upon seeing their nods, he cupped his hands around his mouth. "Oi, Lady! Take your face out of the paper and let's go!"

The kitchen door opened, and Lady emerged, leveling an irritated glare at him. "I wasn't done with the crossword yet. There was a nine-letter word that was some kind of animal which-"

"Oh, boo hoo. You can pick it up another time; these guys have a train to catch, and they gotta double-time it already."

Sirius emerged from the kitchen. "Can't let you leave without saying goodbye, now can I? What kind of host would I be?" He patted Harry on the shoulder. "You take care of yourself. And the rest of you as well," he added, looking around at the assembled group. "Have a good term."

Mrs. Weasley descended the stairs in a huff. "Got your things, then? Let's get going; we wouldn't be so late if Fudge would let us borrow cars again, but he won't lend Arthur so much as a tissue these days…Dante, would you be a dear and get their luggage? Thanks." She marshaled Harry out the door, leaving the red-coated man sputtering to Sirius behind them. " _How_ Muggles can stand traveling without magic, I haven't- ah, here she is!"

There was a woman waiting for them at the corner; she was wearing patchy, threadbare clothes and a porkpie hat. Her hair was grey, and for a moment Harry was confused as to why Mrs. Weasley wasn't introducing them to this new person. But then she said "Wotcher, Harry," and he understood. "Hi, Tonks," he responded.

Dante caught up to them, Hedwig and Pigwidgeon perched on his shoulders and carrying Crookshanks in his arms. None of them seemed to be very happy about this arrangement, save for Pigwidgeon, who was hooting excitedly.

"Better get a move on, hadn't we?" Tonks suggested. "Harry, you'll be with the three of us; the rest will be coming along in groups." They began walking briskly in the direction of the station. "Don't know where Sturgis has run off to, but Mad-Eye'll never let him hear the end of this one. You sure we haven't forgotten anything?" she added, looking at Dante as they moved.

"Yep," he responded simply. "Let's just say it's easy for me to keep track of all the pets," he supplied as multiple sets of claws and talons dug into his shoulders and arms.

They made it to King's Cross after a highly uneventful twenty minutes, and once inside the station, they passed casually through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters once they were sure no Muggles were watching.

"Whoa…" muttered Dante.

Harry didn't blame him; even after having seen the same thing three times previous, the Hogwarts Express was still the magnificent sight it had always been. A scarlet steam engine with smoke billowing out of it, it was the sight that always made his desire to return to Hogwarts turn to excited glee…

But being late meant that there was little time to admire the scenery. "I do hope that she gets here on- Oh!" Mrs. Weasley had turned to look at the archway, and jumped at what she saw. All of the luggage for the Hogwarts students that had come from Grimmauld Place was gathered into a neat pile, and the white-haired man standing beside it was grinning as if he knew a secret that none of them did. "I…well! Thank you, Dante."

Harry felt his curiosity start to bubble up, but at that moment Lady arrived through the barrier, flanked by Hermione, Ginny, and Fred. Like Dante, she too gazed briefly at the train in amazement, but a split-second later had schooled her features into a neutral expression. "No followers," she reported as her charges began collecting their belongings.

"Good. And…ah, here he is!" Mrs. Weasley's posture relaxed as Alastor Moody, with a boater pulled low to conceal his magical eye, limped through the archway with George and Ron in tow. "Thank you, Alastor."

"No trouble, Molly," he responded as Harry, Ron, and Hermione began reclaiming their pets from Dante; oddly enough, while Crookshanks was eager to return to Hermione, he seemed reluctant to retract his claws from the white-haired man's arms. "No sight of Sturgis, then? I'll be reporting him to Dumbledore; ought to be ashamed of the fact that Mundungus is more reliable than him at this point…"

"And I'll be having a word with Sirius," Tonks muttered. "Someone took it upon themselves to fill my pockets with dog biscuits before I woke up. Three Scouring Charms, and I can still smell them…"

"Someone must have gotten the jackets mixed up," Lady suggested, deliberately not looking in the direction of her white-haired companion. "If you need to have it cleaned, you could always ask Molly or Kyrie for help."

Harry put Hedwig into her cage, and Moody motioned to them all before they could board the train. "You lot be careful this year; keep your heads down, your eyes peeled, and your ears open. And if you're even slightly unsure about the secrecy of what you put in writing, then don't write it at all."

Even as much as she'd fussed about them all being late, Mrs. Weasley still took time to hug all of her children, then Hermione, and finally Harry. "Have a great term, all of you, and be good!"

"Within reason," murmured Tonks, winking at Ginny and Hermione, who giggled.

The train whistle sounded, and Moody scowled. "Well, then. Lady, Dante, if you'll do the honors?"

The two nodded, ushering all the students quickly onto the train. They all boarded just in time before the train began to pull away from the station; soon Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, and Moody were all getting smaller and smaller in the distance.

"Harry, where are Lady and Dante?"

Harry turned to Hermione, puzzled, but as he did, he could see that they weren't anywhere to be found in the compartment. That was odd; he'd been sure they were right behind him when they boarded. But try as he might, he couldn't spot either of them on the platform as it whizzed by the windows. Where had they gone?

He had little time to ponder this mystery, though, as Fred and George chose that moment to inform the rest of the group that they were leaving to find Lee Jordan. Harry was about to find a compartment for Ron, Hermione and himself, but the other two reminded him that they were prefects, meaning that they'd need to move up to the prefect carriage for a little while to get instructions. Both were highly apologetic, and Ron even assured Harry that it wasn't any fun for him. Harry understood, but even so, the thought of spending a Hogwarts train ride without his two best friends made him feel an odd sort of wistfulness. Without much else choice, he moved to find a compartment elsewhere.

Still, he was joined by Ginny, and almost immediately Neville Longbottom as well. The latter was carrying his toad Trevor in one hand and an extremely ugly plant in his other arm that resembled a cactus with boils, and looking as proud as Harry had ever seen him. While Harry privately felt that the plant was something he would have been more proud to get rid of, he was glad to see Neville so happy. The three of them moved to find a place to sit; they settled on a nearly empty compartment that housed only a single person, despite a weak objection from Neville about "not disturbing anyone".

The person seated inside was a girl that looked about the same age as Ginny, with straggly, dirty-blond hair that reached her waist and silver-grey eyes that seemed to bulge slightly, giving her a look as if she was always somewhat surprised. It was hard to say what was most odd about her; perhaps the wand tucked behind her ear as if it were an errant pencil, or the magazine she was currently reading upside-down, or the necklace made of butterbeer caps. Whatever the case, she was quite possibly the most unusual person Harry had met; given his company for the past two weeks, that was saying quite a lot.

"Mind if we sit here?" asked Harry. The girl shook her head, and the three of them stowed their trunks, plus Hedwig's cage, in the luggage rack. "Thanks. Erm…"

"You're Harry Potter," the girl informed Harry dreamily, staring at him. In doing so, he found another odd thing about her; she didn't seem to need to blink. Not as much as normal humans, at any rate.

"Last I checked."

Ginny grinned. "Harry, Neville, this is Luna Lovegood. She's a Ravenclaw in my year."

" ' _Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_ '," Luna recited in a singsong voice.

Harry and Neville both stared at her, nonplussed. Ginny was no help; she was actually biting down on her hand to stop herself from laughing. "Had a good summer, Luna?" she asked once she'd composed herself.

"Oh, yes, quite enjoyable. Yours?"

"Very nice, thanks."

"That's good, then." Abruptly, she raised her magazine to cover her face as she read; Harry could just make out the name _The Quibbler_ on the front cover.

There was quiet for a while as the train rattled along into more open country.

"How about you, Neville?" Harry asked finally, when the heavy silence had become too much for him to tolerate.

"Oh, mine was excellent," he responded, a smile returning to his face. "You know what my great-uncle Algie got me?"

Harry's first impulse was another Remembrall, though it would have been unlikely, as he had saved Neville's first one in a stunt that had gotten him his place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. His eye caught the object in Neville's arms, and he hazarded a guess. "Is it that…plant?"

"Yeah!" responded Neville eagerly, nodding. "He got it for me in Assyria, and it's really, really rare. It's a _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ ," the Gryffindor said in a hushed voice. He then launched into an enthusiastic description on how he was going to talk to Professor Sprout about it, and its potential properties when crossbreeding, and many other things that went straight over Harry's head. While Harry's Herbology marks were respectable enough, it was not his element like it was Neville's; nevertheless, he tried to follow along for the sake of Neville's enthusiasm. "And, what's more, it's got a really cool defense mechanism!" he announced, looking at them expectantly. "Want to see it?"

While his interest was piqued, the instant Neville had said "defense mechanism", his mind flew to the thought of the strange weapons that Dante had been using at Grimmauld Place; the so-called "Devil Arms". While he was sure Neville would never do anything that would put them in danger, he was unsuccessful in blocking out the image of the plant suddenly sprouting knife-like thorns and turning into a miniature Devil's Snare. Shuddering, he said "Erm…maybe best do it outside, Neville. But sometime, sure."

Slightly put out, but nodding, Neville carefully set the _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ into a seat beside him. "How was your summer, Harry?" he asked.

"It was…interesting," Harry responded carefully, hoping that the _Daily Prophet_ had decided not to run a story about his hearing now that he'd been cleared of all charges. "Got to see the Ministry for the first time, so that was nice."

"The Ministry?" Luna asked, quickly lowering the magazine and staring, if it were possible, even more unblinkingly at him. "You didn't get near the Auror Office, did you?"

He leaned away slightly, alarmed at this sudden interest. "Erm…well, yes, but-"

She gasped. "Oh, my…you were lucky to get out unharmed. To think, you got so close to the heart of the Rotfang Conspiracy and lived to tell about it…" She leaned closer to him, and Harry felt the cushion of his seat back tighten as he retreated further into it. "Did you overhear anything? Was there any clue of what they might be planning?"

He hadn't thought he would have a conversation on the Express where he was more lost than Neville's details about the _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ , but it had happened; never before had Harry been so utterly bewildered. "Er, no…I just walked by, I didn't go in or anything."

Luna sighed, leaning back in her seat and looking both relieved and disappointed. "Well, you made it out alive. You can be thankful for that, at least. The Ministry is a dangerous place; some may be trustworthy, but not many people do what they say that they do."

"Is that why nothing gets done?" asked Harry before he could stop himself, smiling.

Everyone burst out laughing at that.

Only a few moments after they'd started laughing, the door to the compartment opened, and Harry was still smiling as he turned his head towards it. His mind seemed to go blank as he recognized Cho Chang looking at them, a strange look on her face. It almost looked hurt, in a way. "Oh. Hi, Harry."

He nodded. "Um…h-hi, Cho." He felt the familiar sensation of his stomach doing backflips, but that stopped suddenly when he analyzed the look on her face.

Her gaze seemed to go right through him. Unless Harry was very much mistaken, her smile looked slightly cold. "Just thought I'd say hello. Well…bye, then." And without another word, she'd left again.

Harry felt somewhat wrong-footed. He'd have thought Cho walking in on him, with a group of people laughing uproariously at a joke of his, would have been…happier, somehow. "…Huh," he responded dazedly, the grin slowly sliding from his face.

"Wonder what that was all about," Neville said quietly.

"I don't think she was happy that you were happy," Luna observed thoughtfully.

Harry felt a twinge in his stomach at those words. "Why not?"

"Jealousy, maybe." Luna shrugged, returning to her magazine.

Harry looked around at Neville and Ginny for clarification, but Ginny was refusing to meet his eyes and Neville was looking just as lost as Harry was. Once more, the compartment was full of uncomfortable silence.

* * *

"The difference between charms and transfiguration is…?" Lady inquired.

"One's shorter. Ow!"

She retracted her foot from his shin. "Pay attention, would you? We've only got a few hours to squeeze all this information through that thick skull of yours."

"We both know intelligence isn't the problem." Dante looked at the piles of books around them, giving a despairing sigh. "I'm not the studying type; I'm a 'think it, do it, master it' kinda guy."

"Well, until you can turn rabbits into slippers, this is the best we can do." She looked back down at the book in her lap, leaning back in her seat. "Now, what kind of things would you expect to learn in a Divination class?"

"It would be nice if I could make my own slippers, actually. You think I could do that with a Devil Arm?"

She forced herself to stay calm. "Unless it's made from some sort of killer rabbit demon, probably not. Would you at least _try_ to answer these?"

" _Fine_."

"Good. So, what could you expect to learn in a Divination class?"

"I dunno, using bird guts to tell the future or something?"

She stared at him, her eyes narrowed. "…Lucky guess."

"Can't I just call Al about anything that comes up?"

"You'd spend more time asking Dumbledore questions than doing your job if that was the case. And I'll be busy enough that I can't cover for you. Not that I'd want to…" She sighed, giving him a searching look. "Speaking of covering for you, I presume that was you this morning?"

"You can't prove that," the Devil Hunter responded smugly.

"You do realize that he only transforms into a wolf at full moon, don't you? None of the traits carry over to his normal form, either; no enhanced sense of smell or anything."

His grin slid down into a frown. "Damn. That was a lot of work, too." His eyes suddenly went wide. "Wait…if it had been a full moon…does that mean that I-"

"No, you wouldn't have," she reassured him. "Werewolves attack humans on sight no matter what they smell like. And I'm pretty sure if people could distract them with treats, there wouldn't be a problem with attacks."

"Phew…"

"Yeah. Now, let's continue; where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

* * *

It was an hour later that Ron and Hermione finally returned, dropping into empty seats not occupied by the small collection of sweets that Harry, Ginny, and Neville had ordered from the food trolley. Harry was in the middle of swapping Chocolate Frog cards with Neville when he received some rather unpleasant, but not altogether unexpected, news. "Malfoy's a prefect?" he repeated in disgust.

"Yeah," Ron grumbled, biting off the head of a Chocolate Frog. "Him and that Pansy Parkinson. Dunno what Dumbledore's thinking with his choice in prefects…" He gulped down the chocolate, and paused a moment later once he'd realized what he said. "Erm…well, the Slytherins, anyway."

"Not like he had many options, though," Harry said, fighting a grin. "What, you thought he'd pick Crabbe or Goyle?"

"Fair enough."

"Who are the others?"

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott for Hufflepuff," Hermione responded at once as Ron took another bite of his Frog.

"And Ravenclaw's are Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil," Ron finished thickly through his mouthful of chocolate.

"You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil," Luna said from behind her magazine.

Ron gave a great swallow. "…Yeah, I know I did."

She peered over the top of her magazine. "She didn't enjoy it very much, because you wouldn't dance with her. She doesn't think you treated her very well."

Harry had to fight a strong urge to squirm in his seat; from the look of him, so did Ron.

"I don't think I'd have minded, though," Luna continued thoughtfully. "I don't like dancing much."

He raised an eyebrow, looking between Luna and Ron. She, however, chose not to elaborate further, settling in to her magazine once more.

"Er…anyway," Ron said, with a final look of bemusement at Luna, "I almost forgot; we found Lady and Dante."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. "Where?"

"The car just ahead of us. They're in there with what looks like half the Hogwarts library. Can't imagine why…"

* * *

"Name of the Minister of Magic?"

"Ifn't he dah Fwdd gah?"

Lady sighed, her eyebrow twitching. "Chew. Swallow. _Then_ repeat."

Dante gulped down the Pumpkin Pasties he'd been muttering around. "Isn't he the Fudge guy? The one who decided the Potter kid was a dangerous criminal for not letting his soul get sucked out?"

Her eyes widened. "…Correct. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually paid attention once in a while."

"Good thing you know better." Dante opened a small bottle of tomato juice, chugging it eagerly.

"You know, I'm positive that the lunch cart didn't have any tomato juice on it when it came by," she said amusedly as he polished off his beverage with amazing speed.

"That's weird, I didn't notice." He stuffed the bottle into his coat, reaching for more candy from the small pile, but his hand was intercepted by Lady's.

"Not until you've answered two more questions."

The Devil Hunter rolled his eyes, withdrawing his hand. "Fine. I'm ready."

She opened her mouth to continue their quiz session; however, before she could pose her next problem, there was a loud thump from the doors leading towards the engine and the rest of the train compartments. They both turned their heads to look through the frosted windows; they could see two large shadows stumbling backwards near a third, small shadow. The smaller figure almost seemed to be giving orders to the other two, and they trudged forward to collide with the doors with another loud thump. She turned to look at her partner, who was currently trying (and failing) to look confused. "Was that really necessary?"

"You said you wanted privacy, and this cuts down on interruptions with our little study sessions. Tell me you weren't getting tired of people going back and forth through this place all the time."

"Never mind that. Privacy usually means 'lock the door', not 'freeze the whole door in solid ice'. You're getting a little too quick to use that Devil Arm lately."

There was a louder thump this time, as if all three people on the other side had charged the door to absolutely no effect.

"I'll unfreeze it when we get there; someone's gotta teach the kids to sit still on this crazy train. Besides, this is part of the whole 'temporary bodyguard' deal; if no one can get to them, they can't get hurt. And then we don't have to hover over them all the time."

She sighed, nodding. "True enough. It'd set a bad impression if we let someone die under our nose before school even starts."

"Sheesh, I just meant giving them some breathing room. Just because of my little trick, you gotta get so cold?"

She closed her eyes, gathering herself for a bit before opening them to stare unamusedly at her companion. "And now it's three questions for you to answer."

* * *

Harry flipped through the copy of the _Quibbler_ , finding his curiosity growing with each page. He'd asked Luna to lend it to him when he'd noticed Sirius's name on the cover, but the story he found was so absurd that he had a hard time not laughing out loud; the only grain of truth he could find in the story was that it proclaimed Sirius to be innocent, and that had to have been a fluke. Something about the magazine as a whole seemed completely ridiculous, and yet he found himself utterly fascinated with it. Skimming through, he was finding the notion that Sirius was actually the lead singer of a band to be sensible compared to the other stories.

One claimed that Cornelius Fudge was trying to control Gringotts by "disappearing" goblins (the methods varied, but he gave up after the story claimed one of the methods was baking goblins into pies). Another claimed that Merlin was actually Albus Dumbledore, having gone back in time with a special prototype Time-Turner (which was ridiculous on several levels, not to mention he doubted Time-Turners worked like that). A third proclaimed that Newt Scamander, author of _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_ , was planning a trip to the moon to bring back previously unknown creatures for study; this would have been much more impressive, and slightly more credible, had the magazine not insisted he would make the trip via broomstick. The fourth story, however…

 **DEMONS – More Than Myths?**

 **Mere Creatures of Fairytales OR Definite Danger to Us?**

He frowned, trying to remember. Hadn't George mentioned the Order discussing demons back at Grimmauld Place? …Yes, it was something they'd overheard on the Extendable Ears. And Dante had mentioned demons as well, hadn't he? His eyes flicked down to the article.

 _For centuries, wizards and Muggles alike have been_

"Something interesting there, Harry?"

He started slightly, looking up at Ron. "Well, actually-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione snapped, cutting him off. "Everyone knows _The Quibbler_ 's rubbish."

" _Pardon_ me." The voice was Luna's, but it had a frosty edge that was nothing like the dreamy tone she'd taken earlier. "My father's the editor." And she'd snatched the magazine out of Harry's hands with surprising speed, flicking back through to the page she'd left off on and hiding behind it again.

Harry glared at Hermione, who at least had the good grace to look somewhat guilty. "I was enjoying that!" he hissed grouchily. "And one of the articles looked important!"

She shrugged, looking somewhere between disbelieving and apologetic. With no other way to occupy himself, he spent the rest of the trip in silence, staring out the window for the first glimpse he could get of Hogwarts. Because of this, he didn't notice Luna occasionally setting her magazine down to stare around at everyone in the compartment, or that her gaze seemed to soften somewhat when looking in a particular direction…

Getting off the train was full of its own surprises. Luna offered to carry Hedwig's cage for him and, while he was grateful, he'd sort of been expecting her to still be upset about Hermione's insult. Then, instead of Hagrid's usual call of "Firs' years, firs' years this way", Professor Grubbly-Plank (the Care of Magical Creatures substitute from last year) was instead calling for the first years for their traditional boat ride across the lake. And if that hadn't been enough, once he got to the carriages that would take second years and above to the castle, he found that they were no longer horseless.

Harry stared at these winged…horses, if you could call them that. What were they, exactly? He turned around to see if he could spot Ron, and then he saw Dante standing next to one of the horses in front of another carriage. He was peering intently into its eyes; the horse, for its part, seemed to be looking back with innocent curiosity. Dante shrugged, gave it a soft pat on the head, and vanished into his carriage.

If he'd thought that the surprises were over, he was badly mistaken. Once Ron and Hermione had caught up to him, it turned out they couldn't see the…erm…"horses" at all. He was beginning to worry until he received assurance from an unexpected source.

"I can see them too, you know."

Harry turned to look at Luna, who held out Hedwig's cage to him. "What? Oh, erm...thanks for carrying her."

"No problem at all. She's a very lovely owl." Luna smiled dreamily at Harry and the others. "But you needn't worry about the horses. Like I said, I can see them too."

"Can you?!" he responded eagerly.

"Oh, yes," she said casually, as if they'd been talking about the weather. "They've always been pulling the carriages, so you're not going mad or anything. You're just as sane as I am." She smiled again, though this time at Harry directly, and went inside the carriage.

Harry paused for a moment. At first, the thought of being just as sane as Luna Lovegood was worrying, perhaps even slightly insulting. And yet…she wasn't the only one who could see them. Dante could, too; he'd even patted one on the head. So she was clearly as sane as Dante, and Dante was cool. Harry smiled to himself. Maybe she was all right after all.

Still, Harry missed the times where surprises had been new, amazing magical things that made him feel wonder and awe rather than confusion and self-doubt. Those had been fun.

The four of them were soon joined by Ginny and Neville, and they all got into the carriage, which began moving towards Hogwarts not long after. He found his thoughts drifting to Hagrid, and where he could be. Had something happened? Or was he still not back from whatever he was doing for the Order over the summer? He was sure that Hagrid would be back at some point, but his absence was jarring all the same.

His unease was soothed, though, once they'd reached the stone steps leading into the castle. The instant he'd crossed the threshold, Harry felt as if things were finally beginning to fall into place. At last, things were beginning to become comfortably familiar, even if only a little bit. After all, even last year, Hagrid hadn't been gone for long, and he was a capable person. Or perhaps he was busy with his gamekeeping duties, and would walk into the Great Hall during the feast.

Luna drifted dreamily away from them to sit at the Ravenclaw table, and the rest of them took seats at the Gryffindor table. The greetings Harry received from his housemates were quite mixed. Some, like Dean Thomas and Lee Jordan, spoke to him as they always had done, asking about his summer; others, like Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, spoke in overly friendly, airy tones that all but admitted they'd been talking about him mere moments before.

Hagrid was not at the staff table, much to the worry of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They discussed the topic in whispers; both Ron and Hermione had the same suggestions Harry had been thinking of, but without any clues, they could only guess where their biggest friend could be.

And, to round out the flurry of unpleasant surprises, Hermione pointed out an unfamiliar person at the staff table, which turned out to be a woman from Harry's hearing; the one named "Umbridge" that looked somewhat like a toad and worked for Fudge in the Ministry. This seemed to bother Hermione much worse than it did Harry or Ron, who couldn't quite get over their disgust with her fluffy pink cardigan.

Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared from behind the staff table, working her way over to where Hagrid would have sat and taking her place there. Harry found himself staring at the table without knowing quite why at first; it was a few moments before he realized what had caught his attention.

To Harry's bewilderment, there seemed to be an extra empty chair at the staff table. He frowned, scanning the occupied seats. The only people whose chairs should have been unoccupied were Hagrid (before Grubbly-Plank had taken his spot) and Professor McGonagall, as she would be ushering in the first year students. But another empty seat was right beside where Umbridge sat. His sense of confusion only grew when he spotted Dante walking up behind Dumbledore and whispering something in his ear. Dumbledore nodded, and motioned towards the table. Harry saw Dante say "Thanks", and then he took the empty seat.

How bizarre.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and the first year students were led in by Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor; the latter carrying a small stool that held the patched old Sorting Hat. Harry looked at them with a nostalgic smile, remembering how nervous he'd been when he'd come to Hogwarts for the first time. Had it really been four years ago already?

McGonagall set the stool carefully in front of the staff table and stepped back to line up the first years. The tension seemed almost palpable as the entire school waited. A few moments later, a rip near the brim of the hat opened like a crooked mouth, and the Sorting Hat began to sing.

" _When the world was younger,_

 _Before the Founders built this school,_

 _Dark creatures came, with foulest hunger_

 _To consume, command and rule._

 _In such bleak times, great heroes rose,_

 _To keep our realm from harm._

 _Valiantly they fought their foes,_

 _Though weaker and under-armed._

 _At last a mighty warrior sought_

 _To finish off the fight,_

 _Uniting all of those that fought,_

 _They put the beasts to flight._

 _To honor all those true and good_

 _That perished in the war,_

 _Those left swore oaths of brotherhood,_

 _To last forever more._

 _Millennia have passed since then,_

 _And crises come and gone._

 _Though the heroes' names be past our ken,_

 _Their lesson still stands strong._

 _United must the peoples be,_

 _When time has come to face,_

 _A newly-formed catastrophe_

 _Born to our time and space._

 _Disunity undermines the good,_

 _Bringing doom to them within,_

 _If scoff you do, then if you would_

 _Remember the Founders wherin_

 _Their friendship and their loyalty,_

 _Could not eternal stand,_

 _For inner strife did split apart_

 _This once happiest of bands._

 _Do not forget, whate'er the House,_

 _That noblest of choice._

 _When dark seem times, when hope seem chouse,_

 _Step forth and sound your voice._

 _Will fight you then like Ravenclaw,_

 _With sharp and steely wit?_

 _Or take to arms like Griffindor,_

 _With boldness and with grit?_

 _Perhaps you'll stand like Hufflepuff,_

 _With comrades just and true._

 _Or if your cunning be enough,_

 _Slytherin shall see you through._

 _No matter what your method be,_

 _We all must do our part._

 _I have given you my warning;_

 _Thus the Sorting now may start."_

With that, the hat became motionless once more.

Harry clapped along with the others, though he could not help but notice that there was much muttering and whispering punctuating the applause. Though this had not yet happened before in Harry's time at Hogwarts, he could not blame his schoolmates for feeling the same as he did.

"Gone for a darker tilt this year," Ron said to Harry as they applauded.

"Too right it has." His eyes scanned the High Table; it seemed he was not the only one bothered by the song. Professor Flitwick was exchanging worried looks with Professor Sinestra, and Professor McGonagall's mouth had become a very thin line. Snape…well, Snape looked as sour as he always did, so at least that was comforting.

"I know it's told old tales before, but I don't recognize that one," Hermione said curiously. "A pity it didn't give any new names; has it ever told that story in the past?"

"Oh, yes," Nearly Headless Nick said knowledgeably as he floated by them. He came to rest on Neville's shoulder, who winced; ghosts making contact with the living often gave the latter the sensation that the bit of them touching the ghost had been plunged into a bucket of ice water. "It's not very often, but during times of great-" But Professor McGonagall was beginning the Sorting ceremony, and gave the House tables a look that silenced them all; even Nick went completely quiet, rising to hover over them as he watched attentively.

Harry did not dare to whisper or otherwise confer with Ron and Hermione, preferring to wait until the feast had started. While not an unfair person, the Professor's tolerance for misbehaviour was at a level so low even Aunt Petunia might have been envious of her. The Sorting began, each first year walking forward to try on the hat as their name was called. After spending some time under the hat (sometimes shorter or longer depending on the person in question), the hat would shout out which House they would be assigned to, and the person would join their new fellows at the House table.

As the Sorting went on, Harry found himself wondering if those who took longer underwent a situation similar to his. When it had been Harry's turn during his first year at Hogwarts, the hat had been undecided where to send Harry. Harry, for his part, only wanted to not be a Slytherin, as it had been the House Voldemort and numerous other dark wizards had been a part of. While the hat had said he would do well in Slytherin, it eventually decided on placing him in Gryffindor. So it had done, and it had been two fellow Gryffindors that were the people who had become his best friends: Ron and Hermione.

Finally, once the Sorting was over (and good thing too; several first years had been giving Harry not-so-unnoticed stares), the Headmaster rose from his seat to address them all. This, Harry felt, was at least something that he could depend on; even with the bitter feelings he had been experiencing in regards to the Professor's recent actions, the sight of him opening his arms as if to embrace them all was impossible to be angry at. "I would like to extend the warmest 'welcome' to our newcomers!" Professor Dumbledore announced, beaming at them all. "And to our familiar faces, the heartiest 'welcome back'! As for all of you together, I have only two words – tuck in!"

Harry beamed as the large serving plates on their tables filled with a massive variety of delicious food; breads and fruits and vegetables on large plates, bowls of sauces and soups, pies and pumpkin juice flagons and scores of other things that all combined to create the most appetizing smells Harry had ever known. He had just finished helping himself to some of everything before remembering their conversation from earlier. "What was it you were saying before, Nick?" Harry asked the ghost, who was watching Ron's enthusiastic eating with a look of discomfort.

"Ah, yes." Nick straightened up slightly. "During times of great uncertainty, the hat feels itself bound by duty to offer words of advice. And during times where great peril lay on the horizon, it has told the tale you heard earlier."

"Great peril, eh?" said Harry, thinking back to the discussions in Grimmauld Place about the Order and Voldemort. "I'll bet it overhears a lot of things in the Headmaster's office."

"I daresay it does."

"Did that story happen during your time, then?" Ron suggested as he speared a particularly plump jacket potato with his fork. "Did you get to see it all?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Nick chortled, his partially-severed head wobbling dangerously back and forth. "No, that story was old when I began residing in this castle. It's varied slightly in the telling over the years; sometimes it spends more words on the war story, and sometimes more on the abilities of the Houses. But no matter how the hat gives the details, its message is always the same; unite together to stop a great evil, like the heroes of old."

"And it expects us to trust the Slytherins?" Harry questioned, looking over to where Draco Malfoy and his cohorts were posturing for their housemates. "I'll pass."

"Now, now, don't be so quick to judge!" Nick admonished him. "You'd be surprised at the things that can be achieved through genuine collaboration. Surely most of those in every House realize this concept, especially Slytherin."

"You really think anyone would bother to get matey with them?" Ron said, scoffing and nearly sending mashed potatoes back onto his plate.

"Friendships between Houses are to be encouraged _and_ treasured," the ghost responded huffily. "Take us ghosts, for instance. Would the Fat Friar turn away a lost Slytherin merely because they were not a Hufflepuff? Would the Grey Lady refuse to answer a Gryffindor who wished to know about Hogwarts?" He paused, frowning. "…Well, she might, perhaps, but not out of malice!"

"And I'll bet the Bloody Baron and you get on _so_ well," Ron sniggered. This seemed to greatly irritate Nick, who gave a sniff and floated to the far side of their table. It irritated Hermione as well, and she and Ron began to bicker amongst themselves. Harry ignored them, devoting his attention instead to eating a generous plateful of his favourite treacle tart.

As the eating finished, and the noise level began to rise once more, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The talking ceased immediately, and the Headmaster began his usual post-feast speech. "Now that we are all pleasantly full from another sumptuous feast, I ask for you to turn your attention to our usual beginning-of-term announcements," said Dumbledore. "We wish our first years to know that the Forbidden Forest, as per its name, is out of bounds to all students – and a few of our older students could use reminding." (Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged guilty looks).

"Our caretaker, Mister Filch, would also like to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are several items that can be found on an updated list attached to his office door."

"As ever, all of the Hogwarts staff wish our students to be aware-"

Ron turned to Harry, whispering. "This woman from the Ministry…you think she's a new teacher?"

"But why would _he_ be here, then?" he asked, his eyes flicking towards the white-haired man. "If he's part of the Order, wouldn't Dumbledore want…"

"-and should you find any of these doors or riddles, you are advised-"

"Quiet, you two!" Hermione hissed at them.

Harry obeyed, though with some exasperation. This announcement had been repeated ever since their first year without fail, and though they had not once encountered any of the so-called "Seventy-Seven Mysteries", Hermione always paid her utmost attention to those exact same words. It was true that in their first two years they had actively searched for even just a clue about the world-famous Mysteries, but having no luck whatsoever, they had resigned themselves to their own slowly mounting schoolwork.

As Harry's gaze wandered the High Table, he saw Dante listening to Dumbledore's words with undivided attention. _That's the first I've ever seen him so interested in rules. Perhaps he's here to investigate the castle?_

"-cannot guarantee your safety if you tamper with them."

"We have had a few changes in staffing this year," he continued, looking to the others at the staff table. "We are happy to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons. We are also delighted to introduce two new staff members; Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Professor Dante, who will be filling the new post of Defence."

The scattered applause was, once more, punctuated with murmurs and confused looks. Harry shared one of the latter with Ron and Hermione; why was Hagrid missing? Dante was to be their teacher? And what was the "Defence" class supposed to entail?

Dumbledore continued as the applause died away. "This year, tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on-"

" _Hem, hem._ "

Harry was sure he was not the only one incredulous at Umbridge having interrupted him; even several of the teachers were obviously disapproving. The Headmaster himself, however, seemed unruffled; he politely sat down and looked at Umbridge attentively as if he was keen to hear her speak.

Harry, for his part, found her incessant rambling speech to be incredibly difficult to follow after a mere ten seconds; made no better by a powerful surge of loathing he felt towards Umbridge and her tone of addressing them as if they were all five years old. He caught something about "replenishing the treasure trove of magical education" and "progress for progress's sake must be discouraged", and…was it… "pruning where…something…prohibited"?

As Harry found his concentration slipping and his interest in her speech gone altogether, he chanced a look across the staff table. Professor McGonagall was giving Umbridge quite possibly the coldest look he'd ever seen on her face, and Professor Sprout was staring at the squat witch as if she'd suddenly declared dancing illegal. Even Snape, whom Harry despised at the best of times, seemed so utterly bored that he felt a stab of pity. Dante, to Harry's surprise and amusement, had actually fallen asleep, his mouth hanging slightly open. The students were no better; Cho Chang was chatting animatedly with her friends, Crabbe was sneaking a jacket potato from Theodore Nott's plate, and Luna was buried in _The Quibbler_ once more. Only Hermione and Ernie Macmillan seemed to be paying attention, and it was obvious they were only doing so out of obligation.

Before he knew it, the speech was finally over, and she sat down once more. Professor Dumbledore led them in a round of polite (if unenthusiastic) applause, and then continued as if he'd never been interrupted in the first place. As he did, Hermione informed the two of them in hushed tones that the speech Umbridge had made was actually quite informative; apparently Umbridge had all but admitted that she would be interfering in Hogwarts on behalf of the Ministry.

 _Good to know that we'll never have to worry about a simple, carefree school term_ , Harry thought resignedly.

After the speech, they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. The boys and girls parted to retire to their separate dormitories, and Harry got a chance to catch up a bit more with Neville, Dean, and Seamus about their summers.

This went downhill rather fast, however, when Seamus seemed to be taking the side of the _Daily Prophet_ in not believing what had happened with Cedric Diggory, and wanting to hear exact details of what had happened during the final Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry, with the nightmares of the events burned into his memories, had absolutely no desire to talk about said details, and was angry to be confronted with them with such little warning.

And so the shouting began.

* * *

" _As ever, all of the Hogwarts staff wish our students to be aware of the legend of the so-called 'Seventy-Seven Mysteries', the name given to several doors and riddles that have been found throughout Hogwarts. Please note that several scholars have deemed these Mysteries dangerous, and should you find any of these doors or riddles, you are advised to leave them alone and keep clear of the location in the future. Generations of Hogwarts staff have done all they can to prevent you being endangered by these Mysteries, but we cannot guarantee your safety if you tamper with them."_

Dumbledore's words echoed in Dante's mind as he paced the room that had been assigned as his personal living space. Not a day into his new gig and already there was a complication; this was starting to feel like one of those special jobs after all. _Sounds like these 'Mysteries' are right up my puzzle-solving alley. And knowing my luck, these ones will have actual magic stuff to them, so I can't just break through them. Damn._ He flopped down onto his bed, stretching his hands behind his head. "How do I always get roped into this kinda stuff…?"

* * *

CHAPTER END

This one took a little longer than the others for a number of reasons; sorry about that. Still, I hope you enjoy it!

Take care, everyone; you're all incredible!


	7. Chapter 7: The Meeting

Chapter 7: The Meeting -Dumbledore's Request-

 _Several days before…_

"'Hogwarts', huh?"

"Yes," said Albus, nodding. "Have you heard of it?"

"Sorry, but no. And trust me, a name like that wouldn't be easy to forget. Hey!" He rubbed his ribs, glaring daggers at Lady and her retreating elbow.

Sturgis gave a wan smile. "It's an old castle in the north of Scotland, built for educating young witches and wizards. It's one of the most famous schools of wizardry; any magical person should at least have heard of it."

"Well, I don't know what to tell ya. I was home-schooled."

"Oh? Was your mother a witch, then?"

"Nope. But the fact that she was able to put up with us was a hell of an accomplishment…"

"No kidding," Lady muttered under her breath.

"Regardless," Arthur cut in before Dante could retort, "the fact remains that we cannot afford to leave it unprepared. _Especially_ not when we'll be abiding a Ministry spy during the year."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, looking around at the Devil Hunters. "I apologize for my insistence, but I would like to ask you a few more questions."

Nero rolled his eyes. "Again? You already gave us the third degree this afternoon. And this morning." He began refilling his glass of butterbeer. " _And_ when we got here last night. Don't you trust us by now?"

"One can never be too careful. But this time will be somewhat different; I would like permission to read your mind."

Nero froze, glaring. "…You're not really asking, are you?"

"Nero." It was Dante, and he had a wry grin. "It's fine. I'll volunteer."

Lady stared at him, surprised. "What's brought this on?"

"We all know trust is a two-way street. You gotta show it to get it." He looked the bearded man directly in the eyes. "Still, didn't you read my mind already?"

"A simple glimpse of surface thoughts; what I intend now is more complex. We may have proved you were no immediate danger, but if our two groups are to cooperate…I will need proof that is significantly more solid."

"You didn't feel a need to ask permission that time, huh?" Nero growled.

It was not Dumbledore who answered, but Kyrie. "This is a house currently occupied by children. Their safety would take priority to politeness."

"Indeed," agreed Dumbledore. His voice was gentle, but just audible was a tone that suggested that anyone who thought otherwise was someone he would not tolerate. Nero dropped his glare.

"Just try not to get lost while you're in there, would ya?" Dante muttered. "There's enough twists and turns to make Agatha Christie blush." He blinked at the shocked looks that Nero and Kyrie were giving him. "What? I _can_ read, ya know." He looked at Dumbledore. "So, what now? We gotta crack out the incense and start invoking a wind spirit or something?"

He smiled. "Nothing of the sort. All you must do is look into my eyes. I give you my word that I will take the utmost care during this process."

"Well, if nothin' else, you've probably got decades of experience on me, so I'll let you take a crack at it. Just be prepared; I've seen some pretty crazy stuff."

The professor nodded, resting his head over his folded hands. "Relax your mind."

"Way ahead of ya."

Dumbledore chuckled, and then stared directly into his eyes. Dante heard him whisper a word, and then it begun.

There was a flicker in his mind's eye, and he felt his vision of the present fade away in waves, as if it had become water. Through his own eyes, he saw his memories playing back like a film. He was back on the train headed out of Raccoon City, relieved they'd escaped and seeing all their friends new and old falling asleep one by one, only to be woken up himself by that cloaked bastard…He was injecting Lady with Daylight, and overwhelmed with joy once she'd woken up with her mind and body safe…He was cutting through Tangaroa and its minions alongside Leon and Claire, saving Leon when the demon had caught him with one of its arms…He was fighting the mutated form of Birkin alongside Leon, seeing if the rookie would step up and get creative…

His memories began to flick by much quicker. He was giving tips to Leon while supplying cover fire for a hoard of undead…He was riding in a helicopter with the surviving members of S.T.A.R.S., looking at the time-stopped Jill with a wistful feeling…He was fighting Lisa Trevor along with Jill and Barry, and then watching her tumble into the darkness, sobbing…He was standing between Jill and a Blitz, fury pulsing through him…He was looking at Barry and Jill as they pointed guns at the four that had just arrived in that world…

Now it was as if they were on fast-forward. He was fighting against Soi Fon…He was fighting against Jidanbo…He was cutting apart the hollows alongside Nero, and completely dominating their competition…He was leaping through a portal that had appeared in the street, following after Lady, Nero and Kyrie…He was waving behind him to Nero as he left Fortuna…He was stabbing Yamato into the so-called "Savior" to get it to Nero so that he could free himself…He was testing out Gilgamesh, and turning the Hell Gate into so much rubble…Nero was hurling his sword at him, and it impaled his chest, pinning him to the ridiculous statue of Sparda…He was crashing through the stained glass of the Order of the Sword's opera house, and putting a bullet in their secretly-part-demon leader…He was exterminating the demons that intended to kill Patty Lowell…

A part of him knew what was coming up, and he felt the fleeting stirrings of dread…

Flying away from Mallet Island as it exploded with demonic energy and what was left of the castle…Watching the deadly beam of white light cut through Trish…Seeing the form of Nelo Angelo tear apart in a flash of blue flames, only to discover his true identity…

He felt his anger bubble up, and it almost seemed as if he were waking from a sleep. _Stop…_

Trish was betraying him…Griffon was being killed after their battle…The gauntlets of Ifrit were trying to tear him apart…Alastor was impaling him through the chest…Trish was stabbing him with his own sword and then removing her sunglasses and he felt shock and heartache at her resemblance to his mother…

 _Stop it…_

His shop was opening for business…He was watching Vergil tumble backwards off the waterfall…

The bubbling of anger became louder. _Stop…it!_

Lady was fighting with him…Vergil was fighting with him before they found out Arkham had been playing them for idiots…He was fighting with Vergil again atop the tower before he'd been skewered by his own sword…His shop was being attacked by demons…He was encountering Vergil after thinking he was dead for so long…

 _Stop it!_

Eva was being killed by demons in front of him, and he dared not make a sound because they would kill him too, and they were saying that they'd left none alive, and then they left what remained of his home…

 _ **STOP IT!**_

The present day came sharply back into view, and he found himself sweating all over. He released the grip he'd put on the chair's armrests instinctively, and the armrests fell to the floor, dangling from the chair by mere splinters.

" _Reparo_!" muttered Sirius hastily. He was the only one who seemed to be aware of his surroundings; everyone else present had worried looks fixed on either Dumbledore or Dante.

The Devil Hunter turned to look at the Headmaster, and was surprised to see him looking just as exhausted as he felt himself. "Never…again…" he growled at the older man.

"Agreed," he said wearily, looking at Dante with something akin to admiration. "My dear boy, how on earth do you still function?"

He didn't like the look Dumbledore was giving him. So he'd been through a lot; so what? It didn't matter whether or not you went through five flavors of personal hell, as long as you made sure other people didn't have to. So he responded the way he usually coped. Deflecting with humor.

"I drink a lot."

Sirius let out a burst of laughter, but sobered instantly at the look on Dumbledore's face.

"You've been fighting for years…withstanding so much pain…and all for people you barely know?"

"It's my job. Our job." He looked around at his three companions. "That's the work a Devil Hunter does."

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair, deep in thought as he tried to steady his breath. All the other Order members watched him, waiting. After nearly a minute of silence, he smiled. "Perhaps, then, we could do with hiring the top Devil Hunters."

"Perhaps so." With no other comment, he returned to his food. Slowly, the rest of them followed suit, with the exception of Dumbledore, who had already finished his plate. As they ate, he explained the nature of the issue that they were looking for help with. By the time he was finished with his description of the facts, everyone had finished except for the red-coated Devil Hunter, who had been deliberately taking his time so that he didn't have to think about the mind-reading from earlier.

"So basically, you want someone to protect the castle, sniff out demons, watch over the grounds and do gamekeeping stuff, and teach all the aspiring witches and wizards how to defend themselves against all the kinds of nasties I go up against in my line of work. All while tiptoeing around a government stooge eager for the slightest excuse to tattle to their boss."

"That seems to be the general idea," said Sirius.

"Huh. Don't envy the poor sap you sucker into that one." He took a large bite of his pie.

"We believe we have the perfect candidate already." The Headmaster's eyes were twinkling in amusement.

"Sounds like you're on top of things," he said, gulping down his food and reaching for the bottle of butterbeer. "Who is it?" Dumbledore continued to stare at him as he began to drink. He was right in the middle of a swig when he realized the implications. "PFFFFFFFT!" Either he'd been set up and they were all in on it, or everyone at the far end of the table had superior reflexes, because not a single drop of the butterbeer he sprayed out hit them. Coughing, he sputtered "Wh-what the… _me_?!"

"Yeah, I'm not all that eager about it either," muttered Nero.

"I'm not a teacher! Asking me to…are you nuts?! I'm a fighter, not an instructor!"

"You were teaching Leon," Lady pointed out.

"…That's different! I wanted to make sure he could protect himself after we left!"

"And that's exactly what we'd like you to do now," Albus interjected. "We're not asking you to make every student impervious to harm; we merely want you to teach them to be ready to defend themselves when their lives are threatened."

He opened his mouth to argue again, but Lady cut him off immediately. "Just let it go, would you? This is our best option, believe it or not."

"I'm gonna go with the 'not' on that one," he retorted. "What about those two?" he asked, waving a hand in the direction of Nero and Kyrie. "Why can't I switch with them?"

"Because it's already been decided," Nero said, glaring at him. "Besides, if something does come up, my fighting style would raise too many questions." He tapped one of his arms for effect.

"What's wrong?" Lady asked, a smirk on her face. "Has the handyman who can tackle any job finally found something he's bad at?"

He stared at her. "Hey, I'm a jack of all trades, baby. If it can be done, I can do it; and sometimes even that first part isn't necessary."

"Ah, so you're afraid, then."

"I never said that." Dante glared at Lady. "I know what you're trying to do; knock it off."

"Knock what off?" she asked casually. "All I see is a grown adult worming his way out of taking on any responsibility."

"Oh yeah? And what are _you_ gonna do while I'm there, then?"

"He does have a point," Sirius said fairly. "That is a lot to ask of one person."

Albus thought for a moment before nodding. "Indeed. Both of you shall go to Hogwarts."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Lady growled.

"Not so fun on the other end, is it?" Dante said, smirking.

Before Lady could continue to argue, Dumbledore cut in. "With our gamekeeper being away on Order business, we've a vacancy in the responsibilities, however temporary. While we'll have a substitute professor to take his lessons, it would be best to have an extra person on watch. If there is even so much as a slight chance of danger coming to our students from demons, we must take any action possible to secure their safety."

Dante and Lady both shared a look. Neither one was exactly happy, but after hearing such terms, how could they refuse? The red-coated Hunter sighed, shrugging with his hands upturned. "Looks like we've just been drafted." He turned back. "Just don't forget our combat pay, will ya?"

 _Present_

Dante sighed, a wry smile on his face as he closed his eyes. "Always gotta be…" He yawned. "…complicated…"

* * *

Harry woke the next morning (after another nightmare about Cedric and the graveyard, no less) to find Seamus already dressed and on his way out of their dormitory before he'd so much as put his glasses on. While irritating, this wasn't exactly unexpected, and it didn't take him long before he too was dressed and headed down to the common room. What _was_ unexpected, however, was the large sign that had been posted on the notice board over top of both the first Hogsmeade date and a note from a third year about their lost Remembrall.

Hermione had arrived at the same time they did. "'Gallons of Galleons'," she read aloud. "'If you're hurting for some extra gold, then contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for part-time work involving conversation, snacks, and a tolerance for trivial amounts of bodily irregularities. Virtually risk-free and almost painless' – oh, for _heaven's_ sake!" She tore down the sign, fuming. "We'll be having a talk with those two."

Ron froze. "…'We'?"

"Yes, 'we', Ron!" she snapped. "You and I are prefects, in case you've forgotten. We're supposed to be the ones responsible to stop nonsense like this!" She looked to be in as bad a temper as Harry felt, but the two of them followed her through the portrait hole without comment. She, for her part, barely seemed to notice them. Once they'd reached the stairs, however, she abruptly turned to look at Harry. "And what's up with you? You look like you're really angry this morning."

Harry began to explain the situation as they descended the staircases, the portraits along the way chattering animatedly with each other. Hermione mentioned that Lavender Brown seemed to be of the same mind as Seamus, and mentioned how ridiculous it was that a person refused to accept another person's story on the basis of "it couldn't be true because I say so". Harry, who had felt a flush of anger at Lavender's siding with the Daily Prophet, was about to retort until he'd heard the rest, at which point his anger was replaced with a sense of shame. He _knew_ Ron and Hermione believed him, and he _was_ grateful for it. But it was just so _frustrating_ seeing so many people side against him _again_ …

As they reached the first floor and started to descend the final staircase, Harry felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked behind him to see Hermione pinching the sleeve of his robes; at the top of the staircase, Ron was holding her sleeve in the same way. Ron motioned them back, holding a finger to his lips.

Puzzled, Harry and Hermione went back up the stairs, following his gaze to see a door slightly open along the corridor, with rapidly flickering light spilling out of it. The three approached it, and Harry suddenly realized that it was the door to Professor McGonagall's office. They leaned close to the crack of the open door, and Harry could just make out the voice of Dante. "-if it's not a big hassle."

"Not at all," he heard the voice of Professor McGonagall reply. "Has something happened?" He might not have been able to see Dante, but Harry got the sense that even he had quailed slightly at the stern tone of her question.

"No no, nothing like that," he said hurriedly.

"I should hope not. If I may ask, what interest do you have in that room?"

"Getting an idea of what to expect always helps."

"What's he expecting?" Hermione whispered to them.

"Who knows?" Ron whispered back. "Maybe he's decided to boot Filch out and save us all the-"

"Very well. This way." They all ducked behind the door as it swung outward. They could hear the swish of robes, and a few moments later, the door was closed abruptly by the man in red without a backwards glance. The three shared a look, and followed the two at a distance. They made their way to the stairs, and Harry, Ron and Hermione took care to climb them as quietly as possible until they'd reached the third floor. By the time the three had also arrived, the elder two had entered a door along the corridor.

"The trophy room?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"He must be reading through the old records," she said, and all three of them were silent once more as they hid in an alcove near the still-open door.

"And this has been here how long?" they heard Dante say.

"Centuries, I would expect," McGonagall replied. "I hadn't taken you as someone that valued history so highly."

"Just tryin' to get a handle on things, that's all."

There were a few moments of silence before she spoke again. "If there is something you know of that would endanger this castle, I would advise you share your knowledge. The safety of our students is paramount."

"If I knew, I'd tell you, believe me; I'm not about to risk the lives of a buncha kids for no reason. I'll let you know what I find."

"Good. In that case, I'll be going down to the Great Hall; can you find your way back?"

"Yep."

The three watched as she left the room, striding briskly away. Harry led them to the door, and as he turned the handle, he couldn't help but remember what had happened the last time they'd snuck into this room. Hoping that it wouldn't lead to another confrontation with a giant three-headed dog, he carefully crept inside, the others behind him.

The trophy room was…the same it had always been. Glass cases containing medals and awards, several shields and plaques on display, and at the far end, Dante was examining a particularly large trophy. They stayed behind several rows of display cases, watching him move slowly across his row.

Suddenly, he stopped. He closed his eyes, stretching a hand out. "Ah…I had a feeling. Shoulda known you'd be here."

Harry's eyes went wide, looking between Ron and Hermione. They looked back at him, shocked; how had he found them? But when Harry looked back at the man, he had walked purposefully to a blank wall. The white-haired man ran a hand over the surface for a moment, and then pulled a small object from his pocket, holding it up. To their astonishment, the wall rippled like water for a few moments, and then vanished. Behind it was a magnificent golden statue of a woman with a lion's head, holding aloft an hourglass; the glowing sand within the hourglass flowed forwards and backwards simultaneously, forming a shimmering golden infinity loop. "Phew…you are a sight for sore eyes," Dante muttered. He pocketed the object, sighing. He turned his head toward another door. "Well, let's see now…" He pulled it open, stepping into the corridor on the other side.

"The armour gallery?" Hermione wondered softly. "What could he want there?"

"Dunno. He was interested when I told him about Fluffy; maybe he's hoping it's hiding somewhere. C'mon, Ron. …Ron?"

Ron was staring at the statue that had been revealed. "How…did he…?"

"I don't know, but let's go before we lose him!" Harry whispered urgently. The three of them followed once more.

Dante was already at the middle of the long corridor, tapping the tiles near a window with his foot. He raised the unseen object again, and the trio heard a loud, echoing clunk. The tiles slid apart, and something rose out of the ground until it loomed over him. It was a strange…what was it? There was an odd, semi-circular metal contraption around a…giant slug with a metal mask. Or was it a snake? Either way, both the mask and the contraption were lit with a number of green flames.

He put the object he'd been holding into his pocket, then quirked his head back and forth, clearly as lost as the rest of them were. But, with a shrug, he reached for his sword, swinging it down with tremendous speed.

 _CLANG!_

The blade bounced of the metal of the creature's mask, putting him off-balance as the three onlookers flinched. He replaced the weapon on his back as a voice whispered around them.

" _By your hand you cannot break our clasp;_

 _that power lies in another's grasp."_

"Yeah, shoulda figured…but who is it, then?" He tapped his foot thoughtfully. "Hmm…what do you kids think?"

They gave each other guilty looks as they stepped out of their hiding spot. "How long did you know?" Ron asked.

"The whole time." He turned to look in their direction. "Well, you're not gonna see anything from there. C'mon." He beckoned them toward the strange contraption, and so (with looks ranging from curious to apprehensive), they approached.

Ron stared at the flames, intrigued. "They don't look like when you use Floo powder." He held his hand close to one, but didn't dare touch it. "It's cold."

Hermione, meanwhile, was reading something written between the flames of the shield. "'If our power is what you desire, it is with your skills you shall inspire.'" Her brow furrowed in thought. "What does it mean by 'power'? And what skills?"

Harry, unlike the other two, thought the answer seemed fairly obvious. "…Why not just pour water on it?"

Dante tapped his chin. "Hmm…ya know, I never thought of that. Sure; give it a try."

Harry and Ron looked at Hermione, who rolled her eyes. "Oh, _honestly_ …" She drew her wand.

"You, uh…might want to step back there, kiddo."

She glared at Dante but complied, and the rest of them backed up as well. When they were about ten feet away, she pointed her wand at the statue and said " _Aguamenti!_ " A jet of water erupted from the tip of her wand and impacted the flame-adorned shield.

Less than a second later, she ducked reflexively as the water rebounded over her head, knocking over a suit of armour. Blushing, she hastily muttered " _Reparo_!" as the whispering from before echoed around them again.

"Ah, too bad. Worth a try anyhow." He smiled at them, but then seemed to remember something. "Oh, crap, I need to get breakfast before my first class. Don't be late, huh?" He started jogging briskly back to the door. "And don't touch anything while I'm gone!" he called backwards.

Ron watched his departure with a look of confused interest. "And Dumbledore made him a professor?"

Hermione, on the other hand, had that determined glint in her eye that only a mystery could bring about. "'Cannot break our _clasp_ '…hmm…I feel like I've heard a riddle like this before…"

Harry stared at the statue, or whatever it was. Why did he get the sudden feeling like this thing was out of place? And how had it gotten here?

Ron's stomach growled. "Blimey, we'd better get some food, too, before it's all gone. I'm not going into Binns' class on an empty stomach."

"Yes, because it would make you so uncomfortable when you doze off two minutes into the lesson," replied Hermione waspishly.

Harry ignored their bickering as they resumed their journey to the ground floor. It never failed; every year, you could count on a good, mysterious adventure at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was one of the reasons it felt so wonderful.

* * *

They had been lucky enough to get a decent meal in before the bell rang for their first lesson, but that was about the only bit of good luck that Harry had all day. Or rather, it seemed to establish a strange pattern of a small fortune being eclipsed by something that made him feel worse than he had done before.

History of Magic matched the day's weather in how dull and dreary it was, though that was standard for the only class taught by a ghost. It was a shame, really; the subject today had been giant wars, which in the hands of a more…lively teacher would have been highly interesting (though hopefully they wouldn't have assigned a foot-and-a-half long essay like Binns had). He had a sudden mental image of Sirius taking the lesson, and had to stifle both a grin and a feeling of disappointment that the image would never come true.

He'd been explaining this sudden wild idea to Ron and Hermione (Ron finding it so amusing that he wouldn't stop laughing) when they came across Cho on her own in the hallway. Much to his disappointment, he thought she seemed hurt at their expressions, and bustled away before he'd even raised a hand in greeting. Luna's words flitted through his mind: _I don't think she was happy that you were happy._ But that was absurd; why would she be so bothered by the fact that he was feeling good for a change? He had little time to ponder this, though, before the bell rang for Potions.

Potions class was never good for Harry, and this session was no exception. It started out mild; only a few snide insinuations from Snape that he wouldn't have to suffer having "unacceptable" students in his N.E.W.T. classes due to their upcoming O.W.L. exams. Of course, he stared directly at Harry when he said this. Harry, for his part, stared back. Part of him felt an urge to apply himself to Potions as he never had before, just for the sheer satisfaction of waving his "Outstanding" score in front of Snape's greasy face. Then the class began, and they set about making the Draught of Peace, which according to Snape would come up in their exams. Harry was careful to read the lines on the blackboard, but it was very difficult with the multicoloured haze coming from everyone else's cauldrons. In the end, he only made one mistake; after adding powdered moonstone, he stirred three times _clockwise_ rather than _anticlockwise_. Snape seemed to think that this mistake meant that he had failed so utterly he would receive zero marks for the day's work, and rubbed salt in the wound by assigning them all an essay on the properties of moonstone. Harry left the class in a very bad temper indeed.

The lunch meal, though exceptional in quality, did not manage to improve his mood, not even when Hermione said she had been impressed with how well he'd done and how unfair Snape had been. She and Ron seemed to be making a conscious effort not to argue in light of Harry's predicament, so at least it could be said that his anger didn't _worsen_ before their next class.

The class in question, however, was Divination. They were starting in on dream interpretation, and the lesson was probably the first time Professor Trelawney (a thin woman draped in so many shawls and beads that she had to be carrying at least half her own weight) had _not_ predicted Harry's imminent and tragic death. But when Harry and Ron had finished reading their textbooks with fifteen minutes left to discuss their dreams, they found themselves at somewhat of an impasse. Ron didn't remember his dreams, and thus didn't share any. Harry, who remembered his dreams only too well, refused to share any; it didn't take any interpretation to know what his dreams about the graveyard meant. Their problem was compounded when Professor Trelawney assigned them to keep a dream diary for the following month; they descended the ladder at the end of the lesson grumbling about their mounting homework, and headed in the direction of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The class managed to outdo all the previous lessons in how much of a sheer fiasco it was. Umbridge started the class by addressing them all as she had during the feast (like very small children) and instructing them to read their textbooks. And that was it. No teaching, no thought problems… _no magic_. Hermione and Harry both questioned Umbridge about this particular method. Hermione was calm.

Harry was not.

He was, however, very thorough in how ineffective, ignorant, and misguided the class was, along with its teacher; further stating that Voldemort was real, alive and a threat that they should be preparing for. It earned him trip straight out of class to hand a note to Professor McGonagall in her office, setting a new record for how quickly he'd been thrown out of a class. There he learned that he had been given a week's worth of detentions; which meant he would not be able to attend Quidditch tryouts. That rankled almost as much as Umbridge's comments about Voldemort. McGonagall told him quietly and in no uncertain terms that he might do well to keep his head down while Umbridge was in the castle, even if he was completely right in what he'd said.

Also, she gave him biscuits. Weird.

The bell rang not long after he'd left her office, and he caught up with Hermione and Ron to relay what McGonagall had told him. They made their way to the last class of the day; Defence, which would be held in a classroom on the fifth floor.

The door was open when they got there, and the rest of the class wasn't far behind them. They looked into the room, curious as to what they'd find. From the doorway they could see several rows of students' desks, and a Professor's desk at the front of the room. This desk was occupied by a very familiar man wearing the same outfit he had been when they'd seen him in the morning. Dante seemed to be at ease, leaning back in his chair and his feet resting on his desk.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked into the room, expecting to see pictures of demons, dangerous-looking weapons, or outlines of people to use as targets. Instead, they found a room that looked…well, like a normal room.

The first thing they noticed was that the bottom half of the room seemed to be made entirely of wood; wooden desks, wooden floors, and even wainscoting around the entirety of the room. Everything in the top half, on the other hand, was made of simple, white plaster. With the exception of the desks, it looked exactly like an apartment that had been recently purchased. Still, Harry was eager to begin; no matter how Dante taught, he'd be leagues better than Umbridge, even if he only taught them a single thing in the entire year. The three of them took seats; the rest of their classmates looked into the room, but did not seem willing to enter.

"Hey, what's the holdup?" Dante called out from his desk. "You wanna be late for class?" That got them moving; filing into the door with nervous glances at their unorthodox teacher. Harry noticed that several of the girls had dreamy, dazed looks about them. The door closed behind them just as the bell rang. He smiled. "All right, then." He took his feet back down, standing up from his chair and walking to the front of the class. "Well, in case you don't remember from the feast, I'm Dante." He paused for several seconds, frowned, and then amended. "… _Professor_ Dante. So, uh…I'm here to teach you Defense." He saw Hermione's hand rise into the air. "Yeah?"

"Please sir, what exactly are you teaching Defence against?" she asked.

The Devil Hunter chuckled. "Everything, basically. There's been a few things going on in the world that aren't lookin' too good, and seeing as I'm the best in the business, I'm here as a favor to Dumbledore." Hermione's hand lowered, and he nodded. "Okay. So." He cleared his throat. "Just to make sure we're clear on stuff, I'm from the States, so my magic education was different than you have here. I won't be teaching you about spells or wand-work, because my magic doesn't use them. You follow?"

"Then…what _are_ you teaching us, sir?" a Ravenclaw boy asked from the back.

Dante grinned. "Fun stuff. Well…fun for me, anyway. Ah, who am I kidding? It should be fun for you guys, too; well, if you can survive, anyway." The Ravenclaw almost seemed to be regretting his question. "So tell me…" He looked around the classroom. "Who here knows about demons?"

Unsurprisingly, only one or two people raised their hands. What was surprising, though, was that neither was Hermione.

"Figured as much. Not many humans do. Demons don't like to make themselves known near large groups of people; they're a sneaky bunch." He started to pace slowly in front of the class. "Normal people…uh, 'Muggles'… even if they know about demons, have a tough time fighting against them…well, with a few exceptions." He grinned to himself. "Still, those with magic on their side stand a fighting chance, if they're prepared. And that's what I'm here to do. Any questions so far?"

"But demons aren't real, are they?" Neville said. "They're just myths, or creatures that we don't understand."

Dante shrugged. "Hey, believe me or don't. But think of it this way; if you're prepared for something as nasty as a demon, you're prepared for anything. So just play along for now. Other questions?" He stopped pacing and nodded to Seamus, who had raised his hand.

"What d'ya mean when you say 'demons'?"

"Monsters from Hell." He waited for Seamus to ask more, but the Gryffindor boy was staring at him, speechless with shock. "Other questions?"

Parvati raised her hand, a somewhat flushed look on her face. "The demons you're talking about; do you mean Dark creatures?" she asked in somewhat of a rush.

It only took him a second to decipher what she'd said, but it took several more to think his answer through. "Huh. Maybe. Well…I dunno. You're talking about kappas and stuff, right?" She nodded, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I wonder if they might be distant relatives…" he trailed off before shrugging. "Eh, not my field. I'm just here to tell you how to fight the things. Anyone else?"

With no more questions, he set them to work. The remainder of the lesson, he had them describe every single spell they knew that could be used to either attack or defend, writing each down on the board. They slowly started coming up with ideas, but no one more so than Ron. He seemed to really get into the spirit of things, adding in suggestions like Severing and Fire Charms with surprising gusto, even having to explain how some of the more esoteric ones like summoning birds could have combat value. By the time the bell rang again, nearly the entire board had been covered in chalk.

"Homework for next time! Turn in a basic plan of either attack or defense against land-based, water-based, and flying creatures. The only rule is that your enemies will have the strength of at least two people," he called out over the rumble of bags and books. "And have your wands ready for use next class!"

They all filed towards the door, eager murmurs shooting back and forth. "I'd never thought of using an Engorgement Charm like that-" "You reckon we can get away with saying we're with a friend for the assignment scenario?" "Did you hear him? We'll be using wands next class!" "Umbridge'll do her nut if she hears about that one…"

"That was great!" Harry said to Ron and Hermione as they traveled down the corridor. "If I'd have known we'd have this to look forward to, I would've held my temper earlier."

"Ah, well," Ron said sympathetically. "Always easier looking backwards than forwards. Shame he couldn't have been our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, eh? Bet he would've had us running rings around Death Eaters by the end of the year. Mind you, I still think we'll be learning loads before this is all over."

"Yes, about that; I'm surprised, Ron," Hermione commented, giving him an impressed look. "The way you described how some of those spells could be used was quite clever."

His ears went a bit pink at that. "Well, it's all about thinking how to use what you have, to do what you need to do. It's not that hard."

Harry considered this. He suddenly realized that what Ron had just said could also be applied to playing chess. "…Well done, mate," he muttered.

* * *

Dante waited until the class was completely out of earshot before collapsing into his chair, groaning. "Ugh…teaching like this is so _weird_ …" Well, at least he'd gotten better since his other two classes that day; none of the desks had been lit on fire, for one. And he hadn't sneezed, so the walls hadn't needed repairing again; he'd thought that little first year girl would never stop hiding under her desk. Sighing, he got back up, trudging in the direction of the door; dinner time had never been so appealing before. And besides, whoever the cooks were at this castle, they made damn good food. Still, it wouldn't hurt if they'd add some pizza to the menu…

* * *

CHAPTER END

Barely on time, but still managed it! Hope you're all doing well, and that you have a good May Day. :-)


	8. Chapter 8: Devil's Defense

Chapter 8: Devil's Defense

Dinner was not as bad as the rest of the day. Even though there were still several students who were whispering under their breath as Harry passed (though not very keen on staying _too_ quiet), many of the others were divided between doubt and excitement about their Defence lessons.

"You lot just come back from Defence?" Fred asked, grinning. "Interesting lesson, was it?"

"Yes, it was," Ron responded, grinning. "How about you?"

"We've got it tomorrow," George said, a hint of jealousy in his tone. "Is our dear American friend teaching you advanced, dangerous spells or some such?"

"No," snorted Harry. "Matter of fact, we…wait, why do you ask?"

In answer, Fred nodded toward Umbridge at the High Table, smirking as he did. Harry understood immediately; she had a sour look on her face as she ate, making her look (if possible) even more like an ugly toad wearing pink. She also kept shooting indignant stares at the currently empty seat that Dante had taken at the feast. And, speak of the devil…

The man in red strode into the Great Hall, stifling a yawn as he made his way up to join the rest of the faculty. He gave a thumbs-up in the direction of Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall before taking his seat and serving himself huge dollops of steak and kidney pie. He then, to their surprise, struck up a cheerful conversation with the woman in the pink sweater next to him. Well…cheerful on his part, anyway; she seemed to be speaking through gritted teeth.

"You reckon he'll make the Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. any easier?" wondered Ron, filling his own plate with shepherd's pie. "I mean, it's good to talk about how to use spells and all, but something tells me he won't be teaching us any _new_ spells."

"I've been wondering that as well," muttered Hermione, toying with her fork without paying much attention to her food. "Given that our official Defence Against the Dark Arts professor certainly won't. You heard Umbridge in class: as far as she cares, reading the textbook is all we need to pass."

"What's Dumbledore playing at hiring her, then? Why not just hire Dante for the spot and have done with it, instead of making a new class?"

She frowned. "I don't _know_. There's something off about the whole thing. I wonder if…" Hermione's voice trailed off as she looked up at the high table, and her eyes had gone wide. "…What's _she_ doing here?"

Harry followed her line of sight, his own eyes widening once he had. The woman calling herself "Lady" was sitting right next to Professor Grubbly-Plank. Unlike her red-coated acquaintance, her conversation with her neighbor seemed perfectly friendly. "Well, Dante's teaching here. Maybe she's taking Care of Magical Creatures until Hagrid gets back?"

"After how she handled that Jarvey this summer, I highly doubt she has more experience than Grubbly-Plank. But then why…" She stopped, frowning. "No…surely not…" And with that, she abandoned her barely-touched plate of food and grabbed her bag.

"Oi! Where are you going?" Ron said around a mouthful of shepherd's pie, but she was marching off in the direction of the door. He gave a great swallow, shaking his head. "You know, sometimes I think she actually enjoys doing that to us."

Harry ate slowly, thinking over what Hermione could have stumbled upon that was so important that she would ignore food. Well, apart from classwork. And S.P.E.W. And extra credit. And…

He shook his head slightly. Whatever the case, he was interested what she might find. Perhaps, if nothing else, they might find something that would be useful for making exams easier.

He could hope, anyway.

* * *

Later that night, Lady opened the door to the small shack, sweeping inside.

Her first impression of the hut was that it felt like Dante's shop if it were much more cozy instead of lazy. Though rather than demon skulls staked to the walls, there were instead animal skins, pheasants, and assorted game hanging from the ceiling, and several things that the owner no doubt used for groundskeeping duties. Her eyes traveled around, taking notice of a few different objects: a wooden crossbow near the door, a kettle on a stove in the corner, and…what the…?

She picked up the small object she'd nearly stepped on, bringing it closer to her face to examine it. It looked like some sort of bun with the texture of a rough, craggy rock. She rolled it around in her hand, and with a frown, knocked it against the wooden table. As she did, it cracked loudly against the surface, the object itself not yielding in the slightest. _Is this food? Or did someone leave a rock here as a joke?_ Oddly light for a rock, though…

She shrugged, setting the food-like object/object-like food on the table. Whoever this Hagrid person was, she hoped he got back soon; even without knowing the man, it felt wrong being here without him. No way was she setting foot in here until he got back.

She heard a whining from the corner of the cabin. Turning to see its source, she found a large black boarhound looking up at her with fearful eyes. She smiled softly. Well…perhaps she could visit, for the dog's sake in any case.

* * *

The second day of the new term wasn't much better than the first.

True, there was no Snape or Umbridge that day, but the night before had made Harry feel exhausted before the day had even begun. They'd barely got any homework done before heading to bed, and then he'd had another dream about Cedric and the graveyard. So it was with a somewhat grumpy feeling that he followed Ron and Hermione down to breakfast. To his annoyance, Hermione seemed pleased about something, but would not share what it was with them. He barely had the concentration to ponder this additional puzzle before the bell rang and they were off to class.

Double Charms was followed by double Transfiguration; both of which began with a lecture on the importance of upcoming O.W.L.s and ended with homework. This was worrisome to Harry, as the combined size of his assignments was rapidly approaching the length of a small novel; made no better when neither he or Ron could finish any of their homework during lunch hour and were forced to pack it all away before they left the castle for Care of Magical Creatures.

While the cool air helped Harry's headache immensely, it did nothing to help his worry that Professor Grubbly-Plank was once again replacing Hagrid as their teacher. The Slytherins made their way down at the same time, and judging by the way they were laughing and shooting glances at Harry, he had a good idea what they might have been talking about.

Once they had arrived, Harry noticed that there was a small fenced area just beyond Professor Grubbly-Plank, full of what appeared to be about two dozen sleepy-looking hedgehogs. As irritable as he had been feeling previously in the day, the sight of the little animals was oddly cute, and it comforted him that at least he wasn't the only one feeling groggy.

The lesson itself involved determining which of the animals were true hedgehogs, and which were creatures called knarls. According to Grubbly-Plank, the way to distinguish between the two was to offer the animal a gift of food (usually milk). While a hedgehog would eagerly accept the treat, a knarl, being a highly suspicious creature, would assume that the giver was trying to poison it and attack the person's property in retaliation. Thus, the class took turns entering the little paddock a few at a time, tempting each of the animals with a dish of milk and being ready to hold their bag well out of reach in case their subject was a knarl. Despite this unfortunate reaction, Harry found that he couldn't quite stay frustrated when inside the fence, not when a handful of hedgehogs were gamboling all around and sniffing curiously at him.

As if this thought had floated on the wind, Malfoy chose that moment to say to some of the other Slytherins, in a very carrying mutter, "You know, I must say I rather prefer lessons like this one. Now that that oaf Hagrid isn't here, we don't have to worry about what sort of monster he'll trot in front of us next."

Harry ignored him, lightly scratching the nose of a hedgehog near his feet. He wasn't going to let Malfoy get to him this year; not even if he badmouthed Hagrid while he wasn't around to defend himself.

"Father was just talking to the Minister the other day, and apparently Fudge is very determined to get rid of _substandard_ teachers. I mean to say, has that overgrown moron ever _really_ taught us anything except what kind of things to keep away from? But with a proper instructor like this, I expect that fool won't have time to hang his coat up before he's packing his bags for good…"

"Ouch!"

Harry had reached out to pet one of the hedgehogs absentmindedly, and it had taken a nip at his hand, just deep enough to draw blood. Obviously, _that_ one had not been a hedgehog. The bite hurt quite a lot; therefore it was a small consolation when Professor Grubbly-Plank commended him for an "unorthodox, but effective" way of finding a knarl. The bell rang a few minutes later, and they made their way back to the castle, the Slytherins' laughter still ringing in his ears.

"I'm tired of it," Harry growled, rubbing his hand. "I'm tired of him making cracks about Hagrid. If he says Hagrid's a moron one more time…"

"Harry, don't," Hermione scolded him. "Malfoy's a prefect, he could get you in a lot of trouble."

"And I wouldn't know _anything_ about trouble," muttered Harry sarcastically. Ron laughed, and even Hermione had to fight down a smile at that. He sighed. "I just…I just wish Hagrid would get back soon, is all. And don't you say that Grubbly-Plank woman's a better teacher than Hagrid!"

"I wasn't going to."

"Because she's not."

"Of course she isn't."

"Good."

"Good."

"Good." They both turned to look at Ron. "What, I can't be part of this conversation now?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry said nothing, angry that he had just experienced an excellent Care of Magical Creatures lesson and knew it full well.

On their way to the greenhouses, they met a group of fourth years who were just leaving them. Ginny and Luna waved to them, and split away from the crowd to speak with them. "Hello!" said Ginny brightly. "Just finishing a lesson?"

Ron nodded. "Care of Magical Creatures."

"Oh my!" she said, looking at Harry's hand. "You're bleeding."

"It's nothing," he said, wiping it on his robes. "Just discovered a quicker way to find a knarl, that's all."

"Oooh, you were studying knarls?" Luna said, intrigued. Harry couldn't help but notice that she was wearing earrings that looked like orange radishes, and had a smudge of dirt on her cheek just below her left eye. It rather gave her the air of someone who was "up to their eyeballs in their garden", as Aunt Petunia had said once, though he didn't think she'd meant it quite that literally. "You must have been trying to split them apart from hedgehogs. I don't know if I'd quite like your method."

Ron sniggered, and Harry grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, well…I was just trying to pet it. And you never know until you try."

"Very true. But it's no surprise that you were hurt trying to show affection to a hedgehog, what with their dilemma and all." She stared at Harry for a few moments as if expecting something, but his blank stare didn't seem to be that something. "Haven't you ever heard of the hedgehog's dilemma? It's quite famous, you know. Though I always thought the answer to that dilemma was fairly obvious. You'd think they could figure it out too; they're quite clever creatures, you know."

"Erm…no, I hadn't heard about that."

Ron looked like he was trying to fight a smirk. "Was it in an issue of _The Quibbler_?" he asked casually.

"Oh, no," she responded sincerely. "Daddy's more interested in magizoology than psychology. And besides, _The Quibbler_ is more about seeking truth than repeating old stories anyway. Oh, speaking of." She cleared her throat, fixing Harry with an unflinching gaze. "Harry, I believe you. I believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returned, and that you fought him and escaped from him. And I believe that you were brave for doing so, no matter what anyone else thinks."

"Oh. Er…thanks, Luna." It was strange; suddenly the radishes didn't seem to bother him quite so much anymore.

It did, however, still seem to catch the attention of Parvati and Lavender, who were both giggling and pointing at Luna's ears. "Humph! You can laugh if you want," Luna said in a louder voice, "but a lot of people didn't believe in the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, either!"

"Well, that's no surprise," Hermione said irritably, "as it doesn't exist."

Luna glared at her before striding away, her radish earrings bouncing as she did so. Ginny shrugged, chuckling at them, before following in the same direction as Luna had gone. It seemed others were joining in laughing at the departing Ravenclaw now.

"Thanks, Hermione. I'm glad you're here to ward off the only people that believe me," Harry grumbled as they continued towards the greenhouses.

"Oh, Harry, you can do much better than _her_!" said Hermione irritably. "Ginny's told me all about the odd things she believes in, like Blibbering Humdingers and…and Umgubular Slashkilters, and-"

"And hedgehogs having dilemmas?" Ron suggested, laughing.

She frowned. "Well…actually, that's the first time I've heard her make sense."

Ron blinked. "Oh, come off it."

"It's an old Muggle fable that's a metaphor for people being unable to open up to others. I wonder how _she_ knew about it, though…"

Their discussion was cut short as they entered the greenhouse they would be working in. As they moved to group together, they were joined by Ernie Macmillan, who, like Luna, told Harry that he believed him wholeheartedly. He also said that he and his family stood firmly behind Dumbledore, and shook Harry's hand as if to make a solid point out of the whole thing. While it was a bit pompous, Harry was quite touched by the show of support, and thanked Ernie before Professor Sprout entered to begin their lesson; unsurprisingly, it started with a lecture about O.W.L.s.

Harry vaguely recalled in the back of his mind that, of the teachers they'd had lessons with so far, the only one who hadn't talked at length about their exams was Dante. Could it have been because his class was the only one that they wouldn't be taking O.W.L.s for? As much of a failure as she'd otherwise been as a teacher, even Umbridge had told them of the importance of O.W.L.s…

Smelling of dragon dung fertilizer, exhausted, and with a new essay to boot, the class returned to the castle an hour and a half later. Harry, with his detention with Umbridge not long after dinner, didn't bother returning to Gryffindor tower; he bolted down some food, but hadn't had much at all before he got in a shouting match with Angelina Johnson, the new Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Or rather, she shouted at him for getting detention when she'd wanted him to keep Friday open to be at tryouts. Absently, he wondered at the chances of an enjoyable year if his first two days back at Hogwarts had involved more arguments than most weeks did. He managed to defuse the situation somewhat by agreeing to offer a trade to Umbridge to do more detentions at a different time in exchange for having Friday off. Personally, he felt it would be a wasted effort, but it at least ended the argument. He tried to eat more afterward, but had quite lost his appetite. This left little to distract him from just how much homework would be waiting for him that evening after detention ended. Ron sympathized, and then said, seemingly for no reason, "Pity it looks like it'll rain, too." But he had neither the time nor the energy to investigate this latest curiosity, as by that time he needed to be going.

And so, frustrated, tired, confused, and still a bit hungry, he headed to his detention with Umbridge.

* * *

"Come in," came the high, girlish voice when Harry knocked on the door of Umbridge's office. Inwardly, he marveled at the fact that she hardly needed to speak two words to annoy him; even Snape required a full sentence with context included.

Upon entering Umbridge's office, the state of the decorations gave him a powerful urge to turn around and walk right back out. The lace and frills everywhere were bad enough, but then there were also several ceramic plates adorned with technicolour kittens wearing technicolour bows. Oh, and did he mention that they occupied an entire _wall_? He turned away before he had to technicolour vomit.

Before detention began, he swallowed his pride and asked Umbridge what Angelina had wanted him to ask about having Friday off. It felt like groveling, took nearly all of his self-restraint, and even just saying the words left a bad taste in his mouth. And even with all that, just as he'd suspected, he might as well not have bothered in the first place. Umbridge told him (with a smile that looked more like a leer) that it was his just punishment for spreading nasty, attention-seeking lies in class, and that missing something he enjoyed would help remind him not to make the same mistake twice. _Oh, I won't,_ he thought furiously to himself. _Not where you can catch me, at any rate._

With nothing else to delay his detention further, she set him to writing lines. To further anger him, the lines were to be "I must not tell lies", which were to be written until "the message sinks in". He tried to keep the scowl off his face as the words Hagrid had once spoke echoed in his mind: _"Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out."_ Umbridge gave him parchment and a quill, but curiously, no ink. When he asked about this, she simply chortled and said he "wouldn't be needing any". In hindsight, that should have been a rather large warning, but he was so angry that he took no notice of it, flopping himself down into a desk and beginning to write.

The instant he'd finished the first sentence, he let out a gasp of shock and pain. The words had appeared in the back of his hand as if cut into it with a knife, while at the same time the words had also appeared on the paper in what looked like red ink. The cut healed barely a moment after he saw it, but the ink remained. Except it wasn't ink at all.

He quickly composed himself as he noticed that Umbridge was watching him with that leering smile of hers, and resolved not to give her the satisfaction of hearing him make sounds of pain. He continued writing lines, the back of his hand cut into every time the words appeared on the parchment in his blood. Every line felt like it took ages to finish because of what he knew would be waiting at the end of it, and what felt like hours later, Umbridge told him to stop.

She called him over to her desk, and asked for his hand to examine it. She turned it over with her own, and Harry felt his stomach roil with revulsion. He silently commanded it not to rebel; the last thing he needed was for the week of detentions to turn into a full month. To his fortune, while she was disappointed that there "wasn't much of an impression made", he was allowed to go for the night.

He was not quite sure why, but he did not confide in Ron or Hermione the events of the detention with Umbridge. Perhaps it was his pride that she could not hope to be stronger willed than he was, or perhaps his resolve would falter if he saw the looks of shock and disgust on their faces. Whatever the case, he instead managed to scribble in a little of everything for his written homework that morning (Dante's being the only one he managed to finish), and trudged off to another day of classwork; it was just as busy as the last two, but there was an interesting situation around lunchtime.

He had been traveling to the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione when they came upon Fred and George, who seemed to be waiting for them. "Ah, Harry!" Fred hailed him. "Just the man we're looking for. You, er, haven't seen Dante around anywhere, have you?"

He shook his head. "No, why?"

"Ah, pity that," George said, frowning. "We don't have any Defence lessons until tomorrow."

"Why are you looking for Dante?" Hermione asked, frowning at them suspiciously. "You're not up to something, are you?"

Harry only noticed because he was close to them; Fred gave George the slightest of glances before answering. "We wanted to ask him about the assignment he set us; we think we've found a potion that might work, but we wanted to see if it was allowed."

"Since when have you cared about homework so much?"

Fred gave an eager grin. "Since we've found a class that seems suited to our particular style."

She rolled her eyes, walking towards the hall doors. Ron's stomach growled, and he followed her as well. Harry made to join them, but George stopped him. "Actually, Harry, there's a favor we wanted to ask you." He produced a small, two-coloured candy chew from one of his pockets. "Dante wanted to know when we created a new type of Skiving Snackbox, whether or not it worked."

Harry looked at the chew curiously. "What's this one?"

"Blood Blisterpod," Fred answered. "The idea was that it'd cause a dreadful amount of bleeding from the nose and mouth. That part works perfectly, but we're having some troubles trying to get it to stop. Still, we thought we'd get one of our samples to him; even if we can't get it to work, it'll be nice to-"

"Now what do we have here?"

Fred and George froze at the voice behind them. They turned as one to see none other than Lady looking at the object in George's hand. "N-nothing, ma'am," Fred said, attempting a casual tone.

"Looks like candy, actually." She looked between both of them. "Knowing you two, there's got to be a reason you haven't just eaten it."

The two looked between themselves, but to Fred's shock, George's shoulders slumped in defeat. "All right, you caught us."

"George!" his twin gasped.

"Well, it's not much good to us now." He held the sweet out to her, explaining what it did. To Harry's surprise, Lady's curiosity seemed to grow more and more as she heard the details. Those details, though not actually false, made it sound as if their current batch were the only ones they had made. "…and so, we're giving them up." George finished his story with a genuine sigh. "And we put so much effort into them."

"What, that's it? You can't see how useful those things could be?" George gaped at her. "You could still put those things to good use, even if you can't use them as intended."

"What would you suggest?" Fred asked immediately.

"Hmm…you could probably send it into an enemy's mouth to distract them. And if you could get them to eat it somehow, all that extra blood loss would make most humans weak." She took the sweet from George's hand, looking at it intently. "You might actually be able to do it, if you send it directly into their stomach somehow. Isn't that an option?"

Their conversation was interrupted as Dante trudged towards them, absolutely soaked in water and looking disappointed. "Err…all right, there?" George asked hesitantly.

Dante waved distractedly at them. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

"…What happened to you?"

He heaved a great sigh. "Let's just say the mermaids aren't exactly what they're cracked up to be…Anyway, something itches between my shoulders. Can you see what's back there?" He turned around, and everyone but Lady recoiled in shock; several broken spearheads were embedded in his back.

"Is there anyone you _haven't_ pissed off?" Lady muttered as she began pulling them out one by one.

He was quiet for several moments, tapping his chin as Lady continued. Finally, he said hesitantly, "…the Danish?"

"Only because you've never met any of them."

"Still counts." He smirked as she pulled the last of the spear shafts from his back. "Well, even if I didn't find what I was lookin' for, that at least answers one question. I'll probably have to wait until the weekend to talk to the centaurs…"

"Don't you dare," she snapped, waggling the chipped spearhead at him. "I'm the one that's gotta deal with those stuck-up stargazers, and unlike you, I don't have the luxury of hiding in the castle for the rest of the year after I mouth off to them."

"Oh, you're such a spoilsport."

"Do you _really_ want to try your luck with them that bad? You'll get arrows in places you didn't know you had, and I won't help you pull them out this time."

He sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll leave 'em to you; but if I find out there was an explosion in the forest and a bunch of angry centaurs, I expect an apology."

"Keep dreaming."

Fred looked between them, confused. "What's so special about the centaurs? And why do you have to deal with them, Lady?"

She gave Dante a final glare before turning to Fred. "I'm the groundskeeper until Hagrid's back. Now all four of you get inside and eat lunch, before Dante runs off on some other poorly thought-through errand."

After relaying most of what had happened to Ron and Hermione over lunch (minus the parts about Fred and George's Skiving Snackboxes), Harry and the others went through the remainder of their classes with little time to rest. Harry's detention in the evening was just as bad as the night previous, and the skin on his hand was now slightly inflamed and raw. But even after suffering through Umbridge's detention, Harry did not sleep once he'd returned to the Gryffindor common room, but set to work on his assignments; he made some progress, but was up until well past two before he found a proper stopping point.

What with only a handful of hours of sleep, Thursday passed by in a barely-remembered haze of sleepiness. Ron seemed just as exhausted as Harry, but he had neither the brainpower nor the time to fathom why. The third detention was no better; in fact, after an hour the cut on the back of his hand stopped healing altogether and began to drip blood onto his parchment. After looking at his hand, Umbridge actually let him off early, smiling that sickly-sweet smile at him as he left.

As he returned to Gryffindor tower, he was so caught up in his own anger and pain that he almost bumped straight into Ron, who immediately tried to hide the Cleansweep Eleven in his hand. Harry wasn't fooled, however, and managed to coax an answer from Ron; the reason he had been so tired was that he was spending his nights getting flying practice to train for Keeper in Quidditch. Harry, desperate for any sort of good news, broke into a wide grin and shook his best friend's hand eagerly. However, he did so with his wounded hand, and Ron noticed immediately. Reluctant to hide the truth from Ron when he had admitted his own secret, he admitted what had really been going on in Umbridge's detentions.

"That…that _hag_!" he exclaimed, horrified. "That foul, twisted old hag! Report her! Go to McGonagall!"

"No," he said stubbornly. "I'm not giving the Umbridge the satisfaction of knowing that she's bothered me."

"'Bothered you'?! You can't let her keep doing this! If you're not going to tell McGonagall, tell Dumbledore!"

"He's…he's got enough on his mind," Harry said, but with less conviction than he wanted. The truth was, he was feeling rather distant from the Headmaster at the moment, and while he didn't enjoy it, how could he approach the Headmaster when Dumbledore hadn't so much as spoke to him since last term?

Ron didn't really accept his answer, but dropped the matter once they reached the portrait hole. Harry tore a strip of material from his most ragged shirt at the bottom of his trunk, wrapping his bleeding hand and tying a knot that was just loose enough that he could still use the hand itself. That done, he got into bed; he fell asleep almost the second his face touched the pillow, and woke up after what felt like mere moments after he'd nodded off.

The next day was just as dull and dreary as the ones before it had been, and by no means was it any less busy. But even so, Harry couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation once he'd woken up. Their final class on Friday was Defence, which he had been eagerly awaiting.

The room was almost identical to before, but now a large sword was hung on the wall directly behind Dante's desk; the one that Harry recognized from Grimmauld Place. _Rebellion, wasn't it?,_ he thought. They all took their seats, talking excitedly amongst themselves. Dante was reclining in his chair, looking at his watch. The instant it was class time, he got to his feet, and the chatter died away as the door closed of its own accord.

"Well, here we are again. Your assignment was designed to make you think about what you can do in a combat situation; how to use what you have already to fight with skill." He strode amongst their desks, collecting their parchment. "So you've got a basic idea where threats can come from, and you've come up with how to deal with them. But now you've got to test them." He returned to the front of the classroom, grinning at their confused looks. "So here's how it's gonna go. I'll call you up one by one. You use the spells you've come up with for your assignments against me, and we'll see how effective they are. We'll just focus on the spells against ground threats for today." He pointed to one of the many raised hands that had gone up. "Yeah?"

"Isn't that dangerous?" Parvati asked.

"Sure is. That's why we're going one at a time. Other questions?" He pointed to Dean.

"But…what if you get hurt?"

He rolled his eyes. "In a life-or-death situation, worrying about hurting your enemy will get you killed. Attack me with full force; I'm grading on it. Now, we're not gonna have time for everyone to test their skills if you keep asking questions; move the desks to the side of the room so we've got space."

"Can't you do it?" Dean blurted out.

"Yeah, but then there wouldn't be any desks left. Chop chop!" he said, clapping his hands twice for effect. Not long after, they'd moved everything to the sides of the room. Dante glanced at the assignment on top of the pile. "First up! Hermione Granger!"

She stepped forward, gulping slightly as the Defence Professor took the large sword down from the wall and placed it on his back (somehow). He held up his hands in a placating manner. "Don't worry, I'm just using it to defend." He cracked his neck, and then folded his arms across his chest. "Ready?" She drew her wand. "Set? GO!"

" _Incarcerous!_ "

Thick ropes appeared around Dante, binding him in place. He raised an eyebrow. "Not bad. More effective against an aerial target, but a good first-hit skill. That said…" His body shook slightly, and there was a loud _SNAP!_ as he tore the ropes apart. "Make sure to add something afterwards, because it won't last forever." He walked back to the stack of homework, turning Hermione's over. "Seamus?"

Hermione moved to the side of the room, and Seamus took her place, uncertainty on his face.

"Okay. Ready, set, GO!"

"I-In…In…" Seamus's voice was shaking.

"Come on, kid, relax. A fifteen year-old isn't gonna kill me. Now stop hesitating."

"Inc…"

Suddenly, Dante's hand blurred. "BANG!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

" _Incendio!_ " Seamus yelled reflexively, realizing only too late that Dante was pointing a finger at him rather than a wand. Dante's coat was covered in flames. Seamus looked at him in horror, his face white.

"Not bad, kid. Like your style." He hadn't moved, even as flames covered his shoulders. "Do you mind putting 'em out, though?"

Three jets of water from Seamus, Harry, and Ron doused him, putting the fires out. "Not exactly how I prefer my showers, but it'll do for now." He shook the water out of his hair, smiling. "I'll give you credit for effectiveness, but I gotta dock a few for hesitation. Also…you should know that quite a few demons use fire as an element. Don't get too comfortable with it." He waved Seamus off, and picked up the next assignment. "Dean?"

The rest of the class was spent in this unusual way; each of them took a turn to send their spell at the professor, and more often than not he would let it hit him with the most nonchalant air. There were a few exceptions, though; he leaned out of the way of a Stunner from Parvati, and did the same with a _Reducto_ from Padma Patil, which cracked the wall behind him.

Ron used a strange charm to create a smokescreen around Dante, walked up, and punched into the cloud of dark smoke. It cleared, and they saw Dante looking down at Ron, who had hit him in the chest with his fist. "Not bad at all. You might want a backup weapon for that, though. Not to mention, you never want to lose track of your enemy." Ron made way for the next person, smiling to himself even as he rubbed his aching knuckles.

Neville in particular had surprised them all by marching at their professor and hurling Bouncing Bulbs from the pockets of his robes at the man. He blocked them all easily, though each one he blocked continued to rebound off the ground back up to attack him again, where he would block it once more and the cycle would continue. After a half-minute of this, Dante withdrew those three blue rods ( _Cerberus_ , Harry thought to himself) from his coat, holding them outward as the temperature in the room seemed to drop slightly. The bulbs' movements slowed, and within a few seconds they shrank away from the white-haired man. "Pretty sneaky, kid," Dante said, managing to look both annoyed and pleased at the same time. "I gotta give you credit for originality; I've never seen anyone take on an enemy through gardening before. And I never did say you had to use your wand _only_." He brushed off his coat. "Tell you what, if you can wrangle 'em all up before the end of class, I'll give you extra credit. But remember; like I told Seamus, you gotta be on the lookout for fire." Neville nodded, and moved aside to collect all the little purple bulbs as Harry walked forward.

Dante grinned as Harry approached, removing the sword from his back. "Somethin' tells me you've put some thought into this one. Okay, then; let's see what you can do. Ready…" Harry drew his wand. "Set…" His green eyes narrowed, and Neville hurried back to his place, clutching the Bouncing Bulbs in his arms. "GO!"

" _Confringo_!"

A ball of orange light fired from Harry's wand like a bullet. The blade of the sword in Dante's hands glowed red momentarily, and he brought it up in a defensive position. The light bounced off of the blade, ricocheting up into the ceiling, where it exploded, raining debris downward. Harry's eyes widened, but he reacted quickly. " _Protego_!" he yelled, pointing his wand diagonally upwards. Huge chunks of stone were deflected from his Shield Charm, hitting the floor in front of him rather than crushing him. A large cloud of dust was forming, and he could just see Dante through it; the man was surrounded by several small chunks of fallen rock, several of which looked as if they'd been cleanly cut. He took a hand from his sword to hold it over his mouth, coughing. On instinct, Harry took the opening, pointing his wand at one of the large stones in front of him. " _Depulso_!" The rock launched at the red-coated man, who spun into action even as he continued to cover his mouth. He made two cuts with his one-handed grip; one vertical, one horizontal. The stone was cut into quarters, impacting the blackboard several feet behind him.

Harry would not let up. " _Stupefy_!" He thought he saw the Professor's eyes narrow through the dust; a second later he leapt into the air, the spell passing through the spot he'd just occupied. " _Expelliarmus_!" This time the spell hit its mark; it struck the still-ascending Dante in the chest, and the large blade flew up and backwards out of his hands, embedding in the wall high above. His coat flapped as he flipped around to plant his feet on the wall, pushing off it to jump up and grab the handle of the large sword stuck into the wall. He yanked it free, spinning around and falling back down towards Harry, blade extended. " _Petrificus Totalus_!" he yelled quickly, dodging backwards so that the sword would miss him, but it made his spell miss as well. Dante crashed into the ground, the sword cutting a tiny gouge into the floor. With a quick but near-effortless pull, he'd withdrawn the sword from the ground and launched himself at Harry a second later. Harry only had a moment to react. " _Protego_!"

The sword's blade made a loud _CLANG_ as it collided with his Shield Charm. Harry's heart was beating at a furious pace, his breath short and rapid. Professor Dante, however, had an eager grin on his face, and he seemed completely unruffled as he retracted his blade. "That's what I like to see. Hit hard and keep hitting until it stops moving; that's the right attitude." He looked around at them. "Potter here just showed us something important. First lesson: you better have more than one trick up your sleeve, because you can bet the other guy does." He returned the sword to its place on his back, and then seemed to realize something quite suddenly. "Uh…and we jumped ahead a little bit; full combat's not for another month. So…yeah." He walked back to his desk, and then saw the papers that had been stacked so neatly on top of it were scattered all across the desk and chair, covered in dust. "…Huh." He turned back around. "Okay, who's left?" Only three people raised their hands. He pointed at one. "You're Terry Boot, right? You go next."

The Ravenclaw gulped as he walked forward, giving Harry a look of awe as he passed in the opposite direction.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron whispered to him as he returned to the side of the room. "A bit much, don't you think?"

"He said that our opponent would be as strong as two people," replied Harry quietly. "I thought that would be enough to take out anything."

" _Almost_ anything, looks like," he said, watching at their Professor curiously. "I didn't know anyone could move like that…"

The bell rang not long after Mandy Brocklehurst had finished her practical quiz (several Stunning Spells in rapid succession, which the white-haired man had dodged all of). Dante shrugged. "Well, there we go. …Oh, yeah. Ten points each to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Next class is a threat from the air; and I better not see any repeats!" he called over the rustle of everyone getting their bags. He walked behind his desk, returning the sword to its place on the wall as the students began to file out. "Looks like I'll have to get the repair crew in here again…"

Harry had just swung his bag over his shoulder when their Professor spoke again. "A moment, Potter. Wanna talk with you about your assignment." He smiled as he saw the worried looks on Harry, Ron, and Hermione's faces. "Don't worry, it's nothin' bad. Just a few questions, that's all."

Puzzled, Harry stayed behind as Ron and Hermione joined the rest of his class and left the room; he gave them a nod as they were the last ones out of the door. He felt his eyes go to the sword hanging behind Dante's desk.

Dante followed his gaze. "Still got a hankerin' for Devil Arms, huh? Sorry, that one's taken. We'll keep an eye out for ya, but don't get your hopes up." He cleared his throat. "Anyway…Been hearin' some rumors about you having a shouting match with Umby. Are they true, by any chance?"

Harry nodded, feeling his temper rise slightly. If he was about to hear another lecture…

"Good. You've got spunk, kid; don't ever lose that."

Once more, he felt slightly wrong-footed. "You didn't talk to McGonagall, did you?"

"Nope. Why?"

"Erm…no reason…"

"Lady made me promise I wouldn't cause trouble for the teachers, but she didn't say I couldn't enjoy it! I'd buy you a beer if you were old enough, but that's how it goes. Still, I owe ya one." He grinned briefly, but it quickly turned into a frown. "Look, kid. I'm not telling you to never get mad. But you gotta change how you react to it, or you're never gonna last in a real fight."

"You mean I have to stay calm," he said in a tired, irritated voice.

"Are you kiddin'? Trying to make yourself calm is a waste of time; if you're angry, you're angry. Forcing yourself to be calm just throws everything off. You don't get calm. You get _focused_."

He was very confused now. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not even close." He held his chin in his hand, peering at Harry with a searching expression. "You know what…why not? I owe you one, after all. You need a place to hit something, and I need to keep my skills up. Wanna train with me?"

Harry wasn't quite sure he understood correctly. "Er…aren't you already teaching us how to defend ourselves?"

"Yeah, with magic and stuff. But somethin' tells me you've got a pretty good grip on that one. You _could_ use a little help with weapons training; especially if you're serious about having a Devil Arm. Even if we still haven't found one by the end of the year, a little muscle wouldn't kill ya. Not to mention, you've got yourself a so-called 'Dark Lord' to finish off someday."

Well…there was that. Even with his slowly-building mountain of homework, not to mention his (hopefully) last detention with Umbridge, this was a chance he couldn't possibly turn down. "Okay, I suppose. When and where would we train?"

"We can start tomorrow, if it works for you. As for where…" He frowned, thinking. "Well…we can't throw you against a demon yet, partly 'cause I haven't found any yet, but we need a place where we won't do too much damage and has lots of space. Even if it's just basic sparring, we need plenty of room to move around in. Not just that, but someplace that not many people know about, and people wouldn't hear us sparring; I don't want Pink Umbrella knowing that I'm training you to kick ass."

Harry snorted, but felt worried. Where was a place few people knew of, that was a distance away from classrooms or dormitories, and that had plenty…of…space… His eyes went wide. It wasn't perfect, but… "I think I might know a place. Not a very good one, though…"

"Well, it's better than nothing. Meet me here at eight tomorrow morning and you can show me where this place is."

"Not now?"

"Hold your horses, there," the man said, holding his hands up. "I'm eager to get started too, but this teaching gig is hard work. I've got stuff to do tonight, and I think you need some time to do your homework." He chuckled at Harry's disappointed look. "Yeah, it sucks, but school is school. Now let's go eat; can't kick ass on an empty stomach!"

* * *

That evening, there was a knock outside the Headmaster's door. "Enter," came the voice from within.

Dumbledore looked up from his desk as Dante entered his office. "Ah, Professor Dante," he said, smiling. "How are you?"

Dante shrugged, strolling up to the desk. "Eh, can't complain. How 'bout you, Al? Workin' hard, or hardly workin'?"

"Perhaps a bit of both," the Headmaster responded, chuckling. "Here; let me draw you up a chair." He drew his wand, conjuring up an armchair with purple cushions.

Dante reached a hand out towards the red-and-gold bird perched on a cabinet nearby, but it merely quirked its head at him. Sighing, he took the chair, reclining as he met the older man's gaze with his own.

"Would you care for a sherbet lemon?" The bearded man offered him a bowl filled with yellow candies. Dante hadn't ever heard of a "sherbet lemon", but from the looks of it, they were the same as lemon drops. Ah, well; in terms of British lingo, it at least made more sense than "taking the mickey", or whatever it was. He shrugged, taking one and popping it into his mouth. His assumption had been right, it turned out; it wasn't bad, but sour candies were more Trish's thing. "Well? How has your first week been going?"

"Not too bad. I'm starting to get the hang of this teaching thing."

"Indeed? I take it there have been no more additional…challenges, then?"

The Devil Hunter gave a huff of irritation. "Look, if it's about the fires, there were only three, and you got the blackboard fixed up just fine." He shifted slightly under Dumbledore's inquiring gaze. "…Okay, fine, the room needs a touch-up again, but it wasn't me this time! That kid Harry got a little enthusiastic with his in-class quiz."

"Did he, now?" Strangely, the new information seemed to have reassured the Headmaster, even with the report of yet more damage to the classroom. "Is he…doing well in your class?"

"He's about the only one that could probably square off with a demon as-is. But that's not why you're asking, is it?" He gave a small grin as he slouched further into the chair. "He could still use some physical combat training. We both know he'll need it, and he's not gonna be able to get any in the open with the Ministry stooge here. But…better not give too many details, just in case."

"You sound as if you've given the matter some thought," said the Headmaster, his tone one of approval. "While I certainly hope that we don't have to worry about demonic presence on our own grounds, it would be better to take measures in case of such an event. Si vis pacem, para bellum."

"'If you want peace, prepare for war.'" Dante looked at the man curiously. "You sound like you're talkin' from experience."

For a brief moment, Dumbledore's face looked weary; the wrinkles of his face seemed more pronounced, and his focus seemed to become distant. "You could say that." His eyes refocused on Dante, but the aged air that had come over him did not leave. "Dante…when we were at Grimmauld Place…"

The man in red rolled his eyes. "Not this again…this is the eighth time you've started apologizing about that!"

"And I wish you'd let me finish." His voice had not raised, but there was the slightest edge to it; clearly the experience was still bothering him. Dante bit his lip. Maybe if he just let the guy say his piece, they could move on for once. "You placed your trust in me, and I caused you great distress. I hadn't expected there to be so many…similarities in our experiences, and…" He gave a heavy sigh. "And I forgot myself. While that may explain the circumstances of my actions, it does not excuse them at all. I don't expect you to forgive me-"

"Enough already." Dante gave the man a tired smile. "There's nothing to forgive, because there's nothing to apologize for. It wasn't intentional, and I've been through _way_ worse. That was pretty much just a bad nightmare, and believe me, I've had practice getting over those. …Oh, yeah; remind me to tell you the story of how I took out a demon actually _called_ Nightmare sometime. But anyway, it was an accident. As long as we don't have to go through it again, we're good."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "…I must say I envy your resilience. Most others would not react the same way as you."

"I'm one-of-a-kind." He shifted in his chair. "Anyway, I came here for a different reason. Ready for the update?"

"Very well." He cast a swift but stern stare at his office door to make sure it was firmly shut, and then returned his attention to the red-coated man. "What did you find?" he asked, his voice lowered.

"I was right about the trophy room," Dante responded, inwardly thankful that they weren't having this discussion at the staff table where Umbridge could eavesdrop. The last thing he needed was her overhearing them and deciding to go charging off to "control" the situation. This job was tough enough without having to save some idiot from themselves. "There's a statue of the Watcher of Time in there. Plus there's a Combat Adju-…Ajuji-…Addi-…a Combat thingy in the Armor Gallery."

"These items…are they dangerous?"

He chuckled. "'Dangerous'? They're about the only helpful things I've run across in the field. In fact, unless there's a solid foothold of demonic power in the area, anywhere with a Divinity Statue is a safe place. If this place ever came under attack and you couldn't get everyone out, that'll be a good place to keep the ones who can't fight."

"Very well. I shall commit it to memory, and you can be certain I won't forget."

Dante nodded. "Even so, I'd tell any teacher you trust about it, too. And _definitely_ tell Minerva and Severus."

"Of course. Now, you said there was something in the Armor Gallery as well?"

"Yeah. It's…you got a pen?" Albus handed him a paper, pen, and ink well. "…You guys seriously need pencils." Still, he managed to write the words on the paper without splattering ink all over them. Though to do that, he got his left sleeve soaked in exchange.

Dumbledore looked over the words as Dante absentmindedly wiped off his coat. "A 'Combat Adjudicator'?" he suggested.

"Yeah, that. I've seen others like it, but they're all a bit fiddly. The ones in Temen-Ni-Gru-"

"The demonic tower?" supplied Dumbledore.

"That's the one. The ones there only responded to a specific weapon. The ones in Fortuna, where Nero's from, only responded to a specific person. Usually they have some hints on how to crack them open; especially with the color of the flames."

"Flames?"

"Each one has colored flames arranged around it. The ones at the tower had the same color as the weapon that could break 'em open, but the ones in Fortuna were different." He paused, mulling over the situation before he continued. "The one near the suits of armor is just like the ones from Fortuna. When I was there, there were about half that I could open, and the other half only Nero could open."

"The flames of each were red and blue respectively, I presume?" Dumbledore posited. Dante nodded. "Hmm. And the Adjudicator in the Gallery? What colour are its fires?"

"Green."

They both frowned, thinking. There was silence in the room for a full minute before either spoke again, during which Dante helped himself to another "sherbet lemon".

"I don't think it's anything to do with the Slytherins."

Dumbledore hummed in agreement. "I can promise you that none of them are actually demons _or_ monsters…despite what the Gryffindor students may say to the contrary." The corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

Dante smirked. "I believe you. And I doubt it has anything to do with Tom the so-called 'Dark Lord'. But past that, I've got nothin'." He groaned in frustration, running both hands through his white hair. "Ugh, these puzzles drive me up a wall sometimes."

"Perhaps puzzles are not quite so out of place in a school." Albus was making no effort to hide his smile now. "And besides, they are not unheard of among the magical world."

"That's another thing I've been meaning to ask you." He removed his hands from his head to get a good look at Dumbledore. "These so-called 'Seventy-Seven Mysteries' you have; how long have they been here?"

"Quite some time; Hogwarts has held the legend of the Mysteries ever since I spent my school days here. Given what I was able to learn during my time here, I presume Hogwarts has played host to them for far longer."

"That's…weird. But I'll bet you got plenty curious about them when you were a kid," he said, smirking.

"A safe bet, I would say." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again.

"Did anyone ever figure one of these 'Seventy-Seven Mysteries' out or anything?" Dante asked, sure that he knew the answer.

Dumbledore gave an oddly furtive look. "Well…yes. Someone solved one of them."

Dante nodded, opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it. Apparently he had _not_ known the answer. "…Huh. Wasn't expecting that one. Who solved it?"

"I did."

The Devil Hunter gave him an impressed look. "Not bad. How'd you do it? And what did it give you?"

Dumbledore looked slightly surprised at the second question, but recovered quickly. "Well, during my years at Hogwarts, I had become intensely interested in alchemy as well as the Mysteries. In my studies, I came across something left by an alchemist some centuries before, regarding his own research into one of the mysteries. Supposedly, he had left a prophecy behind: _'When Silver shields Gold, turning Light to Shadow, and when the Lions shy away from the Earth, in the hand of Man shall be found the power of Jupiter.'_ It was highly unusual, not in the least because neither I nor the other alchemist believed in prophecies. Still, it stirred in me the memory of a door I had discovered in my exploration of this castle. There had been a small statue that stood in a hidden alcove on the fourth floor, holding a shield that bore the most curious description. It had read: ' _I yield to no power other than that of Jupiter himself. If you wish to claim my blessing, you must slay me with his might._ '"

Dante frowned in thought. "So…in other words, you had to find a way to smack it with a man-made lightning bolt. One that would show up at the time of a solar eclipse." He looked at Dumbledore for confirmation, who seemed highly impressed. "I may not be an expert like you, but I've had enough practical experience to know a thing or two about alchemy. So, where'd you get your hands on a bolt of lightning?"

The Headmaster smiled. "That, my friend, is a story for another time. But suffice to say, when I finally returned to Hogwarts with the item in my possession, it did indeed work to remove the statue from the hidden path. In fact…it removed the statue altogether."

"Yeah…those kinda puzzles get a little dramatic when you solve them," the younger man said apologetically.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, withdrawing his wand and tapping his desk drawers in a very particular order. "In any case, with its protector gone, I successfully retrieved its blessing." With a final tap of his wand, a drawer sprang out of the center of the desk. "Which is to say…this." He held the small object out to Dante.

Dante examined it; it was a beautifully-cut crystal dove the orange-red color of a sunset. Even without touching it, he felt a comforting air of warmth radiating from it. "Nice one, Al."

"Indeed. According to a Muggle friend of mine with interest in crystals, this is made of fire agate."

He nodded. "Well, that's one down. Any others?"

The Headmaster returned the dove to his desk, shutting the drawer and repeating the tapping sequence in reverse. "According to young Harry last year, Voldemort claimed to have solved two of his own."

"Did he?"

Albus shook his head. "I doubt it very much. Unlike myself, he has never mentioned any objects given as compensation for solving the Mysteries. And I made sure never to share that information with anyone except one other person; the Ministry officials were furious that I wouldn't share what I'd found with them."

Dante grinned. "I'll bet. Keep a hold of that one; I don't know what it goes to, but I can guarantee we'll need it for another puzzle."

"Very well. I shall have Minerva locate the list of all the Mysteries we know of; perhaps it will help in your investigations?"

"It sure would; thanks, Al." He stretched his arms out, yawning. "Anyway, I've gotta put together a lesson plan for next month. Same time next week?"

Dumbledore nodded, and the Devil Hunter stood up, cracking his neck. He turned to leave, but stopped when he heard the Headmaster speak once more. "While I would not presume to inform you how to go about your job, I advise that you be very careful about who knows of your work with the Mysteries."

"Don't worry," he responded without looking back. "Pink's definitely not one of my colors. But if I'm gonna be teaching a certain somebody combat, he's gonna need to know things like this."

"Yes, I suppose so. Good night, Dante. Should you require any help, my door is always open."

The younger man nodded, departing. As he did, he found himself wondering exactly what place Harry might have in mind that would serve as a training area; even if the impression he gave was less than perfect, it would be good to at least see the place. Whatever it was, Dante was sure the kid could find them someplace useful; he resolved to follow Potter to wherever the place was, and wait until he saw it to pass judgment.

* * *

Breakfast that morning yielded an unexpected surprise. Hermione, who had been examining the _Daily Prophet_ over toast ("counter-intelligence", she had responded when Harry asked why she bothered when they didn't believe him or Dumbledore), informed them of a section that had caught her eye. She turned the paper around, and Harry followed her hand as she pointed the article in question out. "The drummer of the Weird Sisters is getting married? Er…that's nice, Hermione, but I didn't know you cared."

"What?" She turned the paper around to look at it. "Oh, sorry; the one right below it." Turning the paper back around once more, she pointed to the correct item (an ad rather than an article), and Harry and Ron both read it.

 _ **The Blue Knight – We'll Slay Your Thirst And Your Problems While We're At It!**_

 _Ever find yourself in need of a good drink, but too far from downtown London to swing by Diagon Alley? Look no further than The Blue Knight! We are open to a wide clientele; all witches, wizards, and any able to come are welcome. If you can drink something, odds are you'll find it here! We also offer our handymen to respond to the many strange challenges life throws your way. No job is too great for The Blue Knight! Located in Maidenhead near St. Mary's Church. (The Blue Knight is not responsible for customer discretion and will not be held accountable for breaches of the International Statute of Secrecy. All customers are reminded to drink responsibly.)_

Ron quirked an eyebrow. "Huh. Well, that's…very interesting, Hermione, but if you want to go for a drink, we can always go to Hogsmeade."

She gave a long-suffering sigh. "Can't you read more deeply into this?"

"Why? You've clearly done it already; is it really fair to taunt us that you're so much cleverer than we are?"

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, but Harry saw a faint pink tint in her cheeks. "They don't say anything about it being a wizards only bar; it almost sounds like they're serving Muggles and wizards at the same time."

"So?" Harry said. "What does it matter?"

Ron looked at Harry incredulously. "Of course it matters! How do you expect a bunch of wizards to keep a secret after they've been drinking? Half the ones who haven't been drinking can't even do that…" A grin crept onto his face. "Dad would love that place."

"But wouldn't a bar be the easiest place to pretend any talk about magic was just a joke or a game?" Harry pointed out. "They could just say the witch or wizard had too much to drink, and laugh the whole thing off." To his amazement, it seemed that neither of them had considered the possibility; Ron looked over the article once more, and Hermione was staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. Unfortunately, it was time for Harry to go, or he'd be late for training with Dante. The two of them bade him good luck, and Harry left in the direction of the Defence classroom, hoping that the location in mind would work.

And that was why, later that morning, he and Dante were standing outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Um…I've never seen the inside of one of these, but I don't think this'll work…" Dante muttered.

"You'll see soon enough." He pushed the door open with his freshly bandaged hand, Dante nervously following. To Harry's relief, Myrtle didn't seem to be in at the moment. "Okay, here we go…" He spent a few moments finding the tap that didn't work, and then finding the snake mark. It took a minute or so to get the angle at which it appeared to be alive, but he found it once more. _"Open up,"_ he hissed in Parseltongue.

The Son of Sparda stared at Harry's hissing, and then raised an eyebrow as the tap slid out of sight to reveal the secret passage. "Well, that's a new one."

"Do you have a rope, or something that can get us back out?" Harry asked, speaking English once more.

He thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Well…after you, I guess?"

One long slide later (had it really been that long in second year?), they were in the passage that led to the Chamber of Secrets. They did not actually enter the chamber itself, however; Harry was already exhausted from the previous week, and if they found the body of the basilisk (which they no doubt would if they explored further; he'd heard nothing about it being removed from the castle) it would bring about more explaining than he had the energy for.

Even the past night had been exhausting; missing Quidditch tryouts, another detention, Ron throwing a small party to celebrate becoming new Keeper, and then there was that thing that had happened in his detention with Umbridge-

"Spooky, kid," Dante announced. His voice brought Harry sharply back to the present. "What's a place like this doing in a school?"

"…Long story."

"If you say so." He stretched his arms out slightly before folding them and looking at Harry. "Okay, first things first. What's the most important thing in a fight?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Well…speed, isn't it?"

"ERT!" Professor Dante made a noise like a gameshow buzzer. "Wrong. Try again."

He frowned. "Erm…your weapon?"

"ERT! But good try. Keep going."

Harry tried several more, like "technique", "power", and "reflexes", but Dante kept making that "wrong answer" sound each time. "Attitude?" he asked desperately.

Dante shook his head, smiling. "You're getting on the right track, though."

"Not dying?"

He laughed. "Nice try, but in some fights, you can still win as you die." He ignored Harry's somewhat anxious look. "The most important thing is awareness. You gotta know your surroundings, your enemies, your weapons, and yourself all at the same time. If you go into a battle without thinking, you're gonna lose. I guarantee it."

"But isn't Lady always criticizing you for doing that?"

Dante rolled his eyes. "Already got one critic, thank you. But just because I play around in combat doesn't mean I don't know what's goin' on." He removed the sword from his back, resting it lazily on his shoulder. "For example, Rebellion here has a certain reach, a certain weight, and a certain set of abilities. I can't treat it like the gauntlets or the whip; I have to use it a certain way against the things I fight. And if I don't want to die, I have to do it on instinct, because there's no time to think about all that stuff in a fight. I dunno if a sword is your style, but it's where we'll have to start."

And with that, he took a step towards Harry. The wizard took a step backwards, but the professor stabbed the blade into the ground between them. "Play nice," he said in an undertone, almost as if talking to the sword, before he took two steps back. He looked expectantly at Harry, as if waiting for something they'd agreed upon. After a few moments of silence, however, he spoke again to clarify. "Well, go on. Take it."

Harry looked between the man and the sword, but finding no further answers, he did as he was told, pulling the sword from the ground. He almost dropped immediately as his arms registered how heavy it was. "You actually…fight with this?!" he gasped.

"Don't worry, you won't have to swing it one-handed yet. Just the basics today." He waited until Harry had brought it up to point into the air, arms trembling. "Good. All you have to do is protect yourself."

"Protect from what?"

"Me." With a crackle of lightning, another sword had appeared in his hands. "Better be ready, 'cause I'm gonna try to kill you." He tensed.

"W-What?!" Harry blurted out, but the man had launched at him in a blur of motion, swinging the new sword down. Harry pulled the large blade in his hands into a blocking motion just in time; the force of the strike nevertheless sent the point of Rebellion into the ground and pushed Harry back a step. Panicking, Harry heaved on the hilt, just managing to deflect another downward strike from Dante. This time he was forced to take two steps backwards to both pull the sword from the floor and avoid a horizontal strike. In the split-second as he did, he saw that it was not slicing with the cutting edge, but swiping with the flat side; even so, he had little doubt that if he let the sword hit him, it would probably break several bones (probably enough to render him defenseless, and definitely enough to earn a trip to the hospital wing).

He kept bringing the sword up to block with all his strength and speed, but each time it was only within a split-second of the other sword's impact. And every time, he was forced back at least one step. Merely a minute later, he found himself backed up against one of the stone pillars in the tunnel, sweat rolling off him as he gasped for breath. He was so exhausted that he could make no effort to move as Dante pointed the tip of his blade mere inches from the bridge of his nose.

"Well, not too bad for a beginner. I wanted to get a good read on where you're at now; you're not gonna be punchin' down any walls, but you've got a good start." An arc of bluish-white electricity passed over the blade, and it vanished from his hand, which turned palm-up. "I wouldn't mind you practicing on your own, but I'll need that back."

Harry nodded, arms numbly handing back the sword with the last vestiges of strength within them. The instant Dante had taken it with his right hand, however, his left blurred forward to fasten around Harry's wrist. "Whoa, where'd this come from? I made damn sure not to hit-" he began, but stopped suddenly. Harry realized that his self-made bandage had come off his right hand, likely from all the sweat and movement from their sparring session. Dante was staring at the bleeding cut on the back of his hand, a very hard scowl developing on his face as he read the words. " _Who did this to you?_ " he all but hissed through his teeth.

Harry swallowed nervously. "I-It's nothing," he stammered, trying to pull his wrist from the white-haired man's grasp. He was not in pain, but the older man's grip was more solid than stone. "Forget it."

"Tell me who." The look on his face was flat and unreadable, but his voice resonated with such venom that Harry felt a chill pass through him.

"Well…" He hesitated, part of himself still feeling that this was a matter between him and Umbridge. But…he _was_ a member of the Order… "P-Professor Umbridge. In her detentions. But I can handle-"

Dante held up a hand, and Harry fell silent immediately. The man closed his eyes and took a long, steadying breath that lasted several seconds. He was silent for several more, and then opened his eyes, releasing Harry's wrist as he did so. When he did, a casual smile came to his face as if he'd never seen the marks on Harry's hand in the first place. "Well, anyway, I think we'll stop there for today. We've both got work to do, and I dunno about you, but I could use a long shower after all this."

Harry nodded mutely, still trying to return to normal after the strenuous exercise and discomfort of the reveal of his feud with the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Still…perhaps he was being a bit stupid about Umbridge. …Perhaps he should write to Sirius and ask what he thought of the whole situation.

There was little time to dwell on the situation once they'd returned to the Chamber's entrance, however; Dante withdrew a weapon ( _Devil Arm_ , Harry assumed) that was a nine-corded whip, made of what looked like solidified water. He ushered the two of them into the pipe, and then waved the whip behind them. Out of nowhere, a strong surge of water propelled them upwards and out of the secret passage, coughing and spluttering as they wiped themselves off. The tap closed behind them, and Dante helped Harry to his feet. "Well, then. Let's try for Wednesday next time. We'll shoot for every Wednesday and Saturday night, assuming things don't get _too_ crazy around here; that should give you enough time to get your stuff done and a little training in on the side, and I'll have enough time to…ugh…grade homework." He said the final two words as if they had the taste of highly foul medicine. "Did you know I actually had a paper from a first year kid that said if he came across a demon, he'd start running away while chucking grenades behind him? I mean, how's a kid like him supposed to carry that many grenades?" He left the bathroom, grumbling something about "good on paper" and "how many pockets" before the door closed behind him.

Harry drew his wand, drying his robes with them. While the day's training had been more challenging than he'd expected, he was already looking forward to the next session. Though he hoped he could find a more ideal place for them to practice soon; he didn't much fancy the idea of having to go up and down that slimy passageway every time they had to train.

The eagerness for training he'd had diminished greatly at about the time Quidditch practice started and his muscles began to ache. He'd never before had a practice that he began while exhausted, and he didn't hold too much hope for how it might improve the experience. Still, if there was one thing he could always enjoy, it was flying.

* * *

CHAPTER END

This one took a little bit longer than I'd wanted, but you can probably see why. ;-) It was a lot of fun to write, but I was worried I wouldn't get it done in time. Hope you enjoy it!


	9. Mission 01: The Blue Knight

**Mission 01: The Blue Knight**

 _Slay the uninvited guest!_

 _MISSION START_

Kyrie was bringing a bottle of whiskey out of the storage room when she heard Nero's exasperated voice. "No, we're not a business for teaching you how to use Muggle telephones." She heard a harrumph from the fireplace, and with a small pop, the flames returned to their orange colour. "That's the third fake-out we've had in the past two days. Can't seem to get any real business…"

Kyrie nodded. The bar they'd set up near London served two very important purposes. First, they needed to keep an ear to the ground for demonic activity; while they weren't exactly advertising that precise fact, their advert was vague enough that anyone who did have problems with demons would be willing to try them. The second was…well, a bar made money, and money was nice to have at times. …Well, most of the time, actually.

Still, their ad was also vague enough that people were calling them for the most non-demonic matters she could think of. Even her patience had been tested after having to explain that they did not provide laundering, lost & found, or cleaning services. "Perhaps we'll be lucky, and our talents won't be needed after all."

He sighed, stretching out his arms as he sprawled over the sofa. "Might lose our edge if this keeps up…The biggest challenge we've had so far was getting our liquor license."

"Here; I'll switch with you. You can get something to eat, if you like." Nero shrugged, getting up and going to the bar. He sat down next to a man with short blonde hair as Kyrie prepared to take a seat in the comfortable chair flanking the sofa. She'd barely begun to do so when the flames turned emerald again; a woman's head appeared in the fireplace, looking disheveled.

Kyrie sat on the chair in front of the emerald flames. "This is The Blue Knight. How can we help?"

The woman's face in the fire looked both desperate and terrified. "I…well, to be honest…I don't know if you can really help me, but…I've nowhere else to turn, and I remembered your advertisement in the _Prophet_."

"It's okay," Kyrie reassured her. She motioned Nero back over. "Please tell us what's happened."

"Well…I still can't believe it myself…I was visiting an old friend in Hampshire, and we ate together, but when we went to the sitting room, there was…there was this large sword stuck into the floor. After we watched it for a few moments, it pulled itself out and started floating. I know what you're thinking!" she said accusingly. "Neither of us was charming it, and we didn't see anyone else there. And not long after, it…well, it did something…"

"Did it change form?" Nero asked. "Turn into a weird bat-thing?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "It…wait, how did you know?"

"And it was the only one? You're sure?"

"Yes, just one. It swooped down at us and we were so scared and I thought for sure we'd die and-"

"Okay, okay, I hear you," he cut her off. "Give me the address and we'll take care of it right away." He scribbled what she told him on a notepad. "All right, we'll be there soon. Make sure no one gets near that thing, and seal the room while you're at it." The woman nodded, her head disappearing and the flames going out. "Hey, Sam. We've got work."

The blonde man smiled. "Finally…"

* * *

With little in the way of grace, Nero tumbled out of the fireplace, landing in a heap on a rug. Coughing profusely, he rose slowly, dusting himself off and readjusting Red Queen on his back.

"Not what I'd call a good start to our first job," the blonde man said as he landed neatly beside Nero.

"Funny guy, aren't you?" Nero grumbled, shaking out his hair with great irritation. "I sure hope you've had combat experience; don't want to have to bail your ass out if you can't get serious."

"Oh, please tell me that wasn't a pun. James wore that one out when we were still in school." He glanced around the room curiously, and froze as he saw a very large blade slowly making a wide circle over them. A large red gem set just above the crossguard was glowing brightly, as were several multi-coloured lines running throughout it. "Is that it?"

"It is," Nero said, slowly drawing his sword. "It's a lot faster than it looks; unless you've got a way to freeze it in place, don't lose track of it, or it'll gut you faster than you can blink. Speaking from experience." With a flash, the Devil Bringers appeared over his arms.

He winced, but nodded. "All right."

Whether it had grown impatient or just noticed them, it was then that the floating sword spun rapidly before it descended sharply. Nero blocked it with his own sword and grabbed the hilt with his free hand. The creature's head, at the pommel of the sword, snapped angrily at him. "Any day now!" Nero called to his support.

The blonde man had drawn his wand, and with a complex motion, there was suddenly a large cork stuffed into the demon's mouth. "If there's anything else you know about this thing, now would be the time!"

"I dunno, hit it with something until it stops moving!" Nero snapped as the demon tried to fly out of his hand.

With an irritated sigh, the man cast several spells at the demonic sword. The first three bounced off and hit the walls, but the fourth did not. The demon suddenly stopped its struggle, and fell from the air; Nero tightened his grip before the blade could impale his foot. He peered at the sword warily; it was no longer glowing anywhere, nor could he feel any energy from it. Turning it over, he noticed the red gem was missing, and in its place was… "What the hell?"

"Ohh, Minerva is going to _love_ this one," the blonde man said, grinning as his heartbeat raced. "Solid proof that transfiguration can save your life; she'll be telling stories about that Switching Spell for years." He rolled the large red gem around in his hand.

Nero glanced at the spot the gem had originally been; somehow, a light bulb was wedged in there. "…Where were you two years ago?!"

"Escaping from an island holding the worst wizard prison in Britain," he replied casually. "Where were you?"

"…On a different island, beating up a statue." He glared at the other man as he snickered. "Hey! It was a _giant_ statue."

"I'm sure it was," he said absently as he pocketed the gem. He was about to turn back to the fireplace when something caught the corner of his eye. A large book the yellowed colour of old bones was sitting in the center of a coffee table in an angular frame. The title on the front was written in blocky letters he didn't understand.

"Well, whatever." He set the inert sword near the fireplace, cracking his neck. "Time to collect, I guess. Easy money is fine with me, even if I do have to put up with you."

"Uh-huh," the man muttered distractedly, moving towards the table.

Nero turned to stare at him, and then realized what was happening. He reached out with the Devil Bringer, and its glowing gold arm pulled his partner back. "I wouldn't do that."

"Hey, what was that for?!" He glared at Nero. "It's just a book, I wanted to-"

"Sirius!" Nero snapped.

He jumped suddenly, blinking rapidly. "…W-what? What were we talking about?"

"You were about to get chomped by another demon."

His eyes widened, but focused quickly. "The book?"

"The book. Looks like we've got some overtime to put in; you game?"

"Yeah. Ready when you are."

Nero nodded, releasing Sirius. Ascalon appeared in his arms, and he hunkered down behind the shield. "Looks like the real fight is about to start. Well…" He took a tentative step forwards, and then thrust the spear into the innocent-looking book. "Rise and shine!"

There was a sharp shriek, and the book rose into the air. It spun rapidly, and then it opened towards the ceiling. What looked like a flayed upper body rose out of it, roaring at them; as it did, Nero noticed that it had two red horns protruding from its skull, along with three eye sockets; the socket in the middle of its forehead was the only one unoccupied by a green eye.

The Holy Knight scowled at the newly-appeared demon. "Sorry, buddy. You're overdue."

The body retreated into the pages of the book, which flew at them, flapping angrily. Nero batted it away with his shield, forcing it back. "Okay, we've got this. Just make sure you-"

" _Stupefy!_ " The flash of red hit the book dead-on, but a strange, glowing green circle with intricate lines appeared around the book. The book shone slightly, and the circle disappeared as it resumed its attacks with full vigor.

"…don't do that," Nero finished with a growl. "Well, fine; we can solve this quick!" Ascalon disappeared in a flash, and he reached out with the spectral golden arm, reeling the book in towards him. He forced the covers closed with the Devil Bringers, holding it as still as he could as it struggled violently in his hands.

"Well, that's one way. But didn't you say that we'd have a real fight?" asked Sirius.

He'd barely finished speaking before two skinless arms sprouted from the book's spine, clawing at Nero's face. The young man flinched backwards, avoiding having his eyes torn out but taking a deep cut across his face in the process. It healed just as a spray of blood hit the arm, and the book finally wiggled its way out of his grasp.

"Take this!" Sirius roared, slicing awkwardly at the arms with the inert Gladius. As he was so unused to the sheer size of it, the attack missed one of the arms, but managed to cut right through the wrist of the other. A scream echoed out, and the book flew open again, the bloody torso reappearing to bite at them.

"Get lost!" yelled Nero as Ascalon appeared in his hands once more, and he sliced the spear downward, cutting through the demon's head but missing its eyes. Snarling, the book retreated backwards through the air, and then fixed its green eyes directly on Nero's, a beam of light forming between them.

A curious sensation stole over him; he tried to shake it off, and moved to thrust his spear at the demon's glowing gaze. To his surprise, it was his shield that pressed forward, and it didn't reach far enough to harm the demon. Angry, he took a step forward to close the gap…but found himself a step backwards. "The hell is this?!"

Sirius swung the Gladius at the demon; as it swooped out of the way, the strange sensation left Nero, and he steadied his stance. "Would you stop messing about?" his ally chastised him. He slashed at the demon again, but it easily leaned out of the way, the torso retreating back into the book.

"Slippery little bastard," Nero growled. They needed to draw the demon from its hiding place so that they could gouge its eyes out, but whenever it showed it face, its stare did something strange. It was almost…as if…

If he wasn't in the middle of a fight, he could have palmed his own forehead. _Of course!_ "Sirius, back up!"

"What, and give it a free bite?"

"Just trust me!" His companion didn't look like he did, but backed up all the same. The book flapped twice, and then two flayed arms sprouted from its cover, slashing at them with its claws. _So when it does this…_ He stabbed at an arm, going straight through the elbow. As predicted, there was a loud scream, and as he withdrew the spear, the upper body sprouted from the book, fixing him with a glare that formed the beam of light once again, and the strange sensation washed over him a second time. _Not bad, but we've got you this time!_ "Sirius, NOW!"

He thrust forward with his left arm as Sirius slashed down with all his might. Just like he'd planned, it was his right arm that shot at the demon, impaling its right eye at the same time Sirius had slashed the Gladius through its left eye. The gaze broke, and the strange spell along with it. As they withdrew their weapons, the demon clutched its bloodied eyesockets, howling with pain and fury. Bits of it began to flake away, like old paper crumbling to dust. Its arms fell limply, and with a final shudder, its body dissolved, leaving nothing but a dusty old cover and several red crystals behind.

Nero breathed a sigh of relief, Ascalon disappearing as he surveyed the damage to the room they'd been fighting in. "This is gonna come outta our paycheck, isn't it...?"

Sirius, still panting slightly with effort, shook his head. Dropping the Gladius, he drew his wand and said " _Reparo_!" Instantly, tables reformed, books that had been displaced and torn reformed themselves and returned to their shelves, and even the sectional couch became spotless.

Nero whistled admiringly. "You guys are really handy to have as backup."

Sirius grinned, his breath having returned. "That was BRILLIANT!"

…Along with a healthy dose of adrenalin, it would seem.

"Welcome to the world of a Devil Hunter, my friend," Nero said, patting him on the back. "When things go bump in the night, we bump them back to Hell."

"Best sales pitch I've ever heard," he said. Within seconds, both of them had begun to laugh.

* * *

"Welcome back," Kyrie greeted them as they came through the fireplace. "How did it go?"

"A little bit of surprise, but nothing we couldn't handle," Nero said, carrying the inert Gladius over his shoulder as he strode out of the flames.

She gasped. "I-Is that…?"

"Don't worry, it's definitely dead. Sirius found a way to wipe it out without having to cut it to pieces. I figured the bar could use a little decoration; what do you think?"

Her breathing eased, and she tried to get her heart rate under control. _I should have known he wouldn't bring a demon back, especially so calmly, but all the same…_ "Well, if you're sure. Where will you put it?"

"Why not right there?" Sirius suggested, pointing. "Some blokes might put a shotgun behind the bar, but that can't top this thing."

Nero grinned. "He's got a point. You okay with it?"

She nodded. It would take some getting used to, perhaps, but they'd dealt with stranger things. "Of course. Oh, and did you contact the customer?"

"We did, and we've got our first reward!" Sirius said eagerly, holding up a bag and shaking it, the coins inside jingling.

"I think you're a little too rich to be happy about a reward like that," Nero said. He gave Kyrie's forehead a kiss and took the large blade behind the counter. "Now how will we-" He stopped suddenly as a large wooden mount appeared. "Thanks, Sirius."

"My pleasure." He held up the cover that had been left behind by the demonic book. "I'll need to get this to the Order, so we can see what we'll learn about it; don't forget, we need to get in the habit of-"

"Right, right, the name, we got it. See you in a bit." The fire flared once more, and moments later, he'd finished his work. He climbed down, wrapping an arm around Kyrie. "How do you think the view is?"

"Looks wonderful," she said, her eyes aimed in his direction.

Nero smiled, clasping her hand in his and looking back into her eyes. "Same here."

As they moved closer to each other, the light bulb set into the Gladius flickered on for a brief moment, casting a golden glow over them before going out again.

* * *

MISSION CLEAR

RANK: A

SAVE / NEXT MISSION

ENEMY FILE

 **New!** Cursed Word

-This demon was formed when a book filled with powerful curses was taken over by the soul of a recently-killed demon. Though it is similar in some ways to the Evil Word, it is considerably more powerful and intelligent.

-It lies in wait for human prey while pretending to be a mundane book, feasting on those unfortunate enough to open it. It is much more talented at drawing in people than its weaker counterpart; merely reading its title can put you under its spell.

-Unlike the Evil Word, forcing the cover closed will not prevent the demon from attacking; it can manifest its clawed arms directly out of the cover without needing to open itself.

-The spellbook it uses to manifest itself is filled with arcane knowledge, including protective spells and trap jinxes. Attacks by firearms or magic will not only fail to harm this demon, they will actually heal it.

-Its true self manifests as a flayed upper body with two eyes. These eyes are its weak points; the demon knows this, and so it will usually only appear for brief moments at a time.

-The demon's two eyes can focus their gaze to hypnotize you, reversing all your actions for a short time. While highly disorientating, the attack also makes the demon vulnerable for its duration; counterattack and break its concentration!

-The possessed book is capable of flight and manifesting skinless arms to attack its prey. If you succeed in attacking the arms, it will be stunned for a moment and reveal its torso out of reflex, giving you an opportunity to kill it.

?

-Despite its greater power compared to the Evil Word, it still depends on its eyes to exist in the material world. Destroying them will likewise eliminate the demon.

 _8/9_

* * *

This chapter is dedicated to Vv-saya-vV; in your wonderful review, you said you couldn't wait for the next chapter. So here it is! :-)

To the guest reviewer from last chapter: sorry about the rehash. But if it's any consolation, we're past the vast majority of it now! And Harry may be stubborn, but no one's more stubborn than Dante! ...Except maybe Lady. Or Nero. Or Trish. Or...you know what, I'll just stop there.

Anyway, have a good holiday weekend, everyone!


	10. Chapter 10: A Mystery Revealed

Chapter 10: A Mystery Revealed

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

 _He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The roars and snarls were getting closer._

" _Here…" she whispered. "Hide here and don't make a noise!"_

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

" _But…mother-"_

" _Not a noise!"_

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

 _The sounds were getting closer. He couldn't stay here and hide; he had to fight!_

 _Closer…_

 _CLOSER…_

Dante awoke with a gasp, dripping with sweat and breathing rapidly. He sprang out of bed, eyes darting around the room and examining the environment. A second later, he remembered where he was, and his breath began to slow down, along with his heart rate. He slumped back onto the mattress. _That dream again…_ He took in a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "Sunday…" He stretched out to put a hand into the pocket of his hanging coat, withdrawing the bottle from within. "And I was hoping I'd get to sleep in for a few hours today, too." He cracked open the lid, drinking the delicious liquid it held rapidly. It only took him a few seconds chugging the bottle before it was completely empty, and he set it down on top of the nightstand. He gave a sigh of relief, feeling the cooling sensation run through him. It lasted all of ten seconds before he looked back at the bottle, frowning. "Damn…I think that was my last tomato juice."

He sighed, getting back to his feet and grabbing his shirt. According to the clock, breakfast was about to begin downstairs. He had to get moving before the window of opportunity closed.

* * *

Harry woke up, feeling as exhausted as if he hadn't bothered sleeping at all. The events of the day before had left him with neither energy nor patience. Not even the joy of flying had reinvigorated him; Quidditch practice had been horrible, since-

…

Actually, no. No, he wasn't going to revisit the memory of that particular practice. Once was more than enough.

Almost as bad was a letter from Percy to Ron, congratulating him on becoming a prefect while questioning Harry's sanity and hinting that there would be a "delightful surprise" waiting for them in the next day's paper. Harry was hoping that it would be Fudge's resignation, but _something_ told him that he shouldn't hold his breath. And he was right, as they soon found out at breakfast.

" 'High Inquisitor'?" Ron read aloud from Hermione's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , a forkful of eggs paused halfway to his mouth. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

It turned out, as they read through the front page article, that it meant Umbridge (the so-called "Inquisitor") would be inspecting their classes to make sure they were "up to scratch". Harry was disgusted that Umbridge would get even more undeserved power, and Hermione seemed reluctantly thankful to at least know the answer to why they had to suffer Umbridge at all.

Ron's face, however, lit up; he looked as if Christmas had come early. "Harry! Imagine her inspecting McGonagall and Dante! She'll never know what hit her!"

Even Hermione couldn't stifle a grin at that. Though it disappeared as quickly as she said, from behind her paper, "Oh, no; Sturgis!"

* * *

The Devil Hunter strode into the Great Hall, yawning loudly. He was tired, but relieved. He hadn't missed his chance; everyone was still having breakfast. He waved sleepily to the professors and Lady, eventually reaching the high table and flopping down into his seat. He began shoveling bacon, eggs, sausages and toast onto his plate, eager to get a meal in before he had to start doing "responsible things". Ugh. He liked teaching the little squirts; it was actually kinda fun, once he'd gotten the hang of it. But did he really have to grade papers for several hundred students on a Sunday when he could be teaching them how to poke demons in the eyes? …Maybe if he ever did find a demon around the place, he could probably talk Al into it…

Ah, well. Now that he'd gotten the important things in order, he could have a little fun before heading back to work. Having formed his food into various sloppy sandwiches, he took a large bite out of one and immediately turned to engage Umbridge in conversation. "Ahh…I gotta tell ya, they sure know how to make food in this place," he said happily, making only minimal effort to keep his mouth closed while chewing. "Compliments to the chefs, huh?"

He saw a vein throb in the ugly woman's temple, and mentally counted a point. It always pissed her off when his table manners weren't polite, so he made it a point to forget them around her. Now, if his back happened to make this difficult to see for half the table, and he happened to be turned so that only Umbridge would be affected by this…well, that was a complete coincidence, wasn't it?

He expanded his mental game slightly. He'd already established that a vein throb or talking through gritted teeth would earn a point, but it might be a good idea to count an interruption of her meal as two points. And maybe her refusing to answer could be two points too, since it needed more self control. Hmm…was there anything else he could add? He wanted to see what kind of score he could rack up by the end of the school year.

"Quite," she grumbled through clenched teeth. _Hah! Another point_ , he thought to himself.

"So, you ever been to the kitchen? I'm kinda curious about the place." He took another deliberately large bite out of his breakfast sandwich.

She stood up. "Pardon me; I need to make preparations for classes." Deliberately looking anywhere but him, she marched past the student tables and out of the hall.

 _Huh. I must've REALLY ticked her off._ He grinned to himself, and began taking smaller, neater bites of his food. _…I'm gonna count that one as three points._

* * *

Dolores Umbridge made her way back to her office, smiling to herself. It seemed she had made her position known, if those children's faces had been any indication. Yes…her authority had expanded. She detested being a teacher in this castle; after all, she had better things to do than babysit cheeky teenagers. But now, she could do what she'd been waiting to do, what she had been eager for. Now she could begin weeding out the enemies of her and the Ministry; the impure, the useless, the seditious. Today was a happy, happy day; the look of shock on Mr. Potter's face had only served to sweeten the experience. Ahh…such a lovely day, and she'd only just finished breakfast! Even having to sit next to that ill-mannered foreign buffoon would not sully her wonderful, _wonderful_ morning.

She swept through her immaculate classroom, feeling as if nothing could bring her down. She was _Professor_ Dolores Umbridge. _High Inquisitor_ Dolores Umbridge. _Senior Undersecretary_ Dolores Umbridge. She was moving up in the world, finally getting the things that were owed to her, and everything was going her way.

As she reached out to touch the doorknob to her office, a blue-white spark jumped from it to her fingertips. She cried out in shock, but managed to pull herself together. Why, silly her; it was only a bit of static. She shouldn't let that get her down; she was enjoying herself far more than she ever had in this castle before. She smiled, reaching for the doorknob again. She was shocked again. A frown briefly flickered over her face before it was replaced with a smile once more. She drew her wand, opening the door with magic. She walked inside, making it about three steps before she stopped and realized what she was seeing.

Umbridge looked around her office in horror. Her mouth opened in an attempt to make some sort of noise (exactly which one had not yet come to mind), but after several seconds of silence, it closed again. It was difficult to say where to start looking first, so she started from the section of the room furthest from the desk.

The door area had several scorch marks dotting the wall surrounding the door, as well as the floor near it; the door itself, however, had not been damaged. This was why she had been caught unawares after opening it and seeing the state of the office. The burn marks was inconclusive in terms of evidence for a particular culprit; if their numbers were high enough, salamanders could do similar things. The size and severity of the marks were unusually large compared to the standard magical salamander, but every race had its freaks; perhaps they were merely larger than average.

One of the walls had a giant, angry-looking face that looked as if it had been cut into it with some sort of sharp object. She walked numbly over to the wall, feeling the outline. Yes; definitely cut into the wall itself. The depth and size of the marks would have taken a person years of hard carving to create, and the face had most certainly not been there when she'd been in the office the night before.

Her flower vases were completely intact, but the flowers within them were…strange. They all looked as if they'd been warped into twisted hunks of metal. She reached out to touch one, but withdrew her hand instantly; the angles of the metallic shape looked very sharp. She knew of no creature that could have this effect on plant life, but no doubt the rest of the office would help to lead her to the true culprit.

Every bit of parchment had been soaked through with water. There was no water around them, apart from the area under them where the water was dripping. No puddles or other forms of water were within the room, but that was hardly evidence when water could be conjured from wandtip. Yes…wands. No doubt this was some sort of plot against her; one of the residents of the castle must have been a relative of a werewolf who resented her recent contributions to legislation against them.

Well, that was no concern of hers; the monsters deserved to starve and die off, to leave the world that little bit cleaner for the good witches and wizards. If they resented her for it, they clearly could not see the noble, ideal world that she did, and thus did not deserve to share it.

But the desk…the desk was the most stunning of all. The entire desk and the chair next to it were coated in thick, jagged ice. From the look of it, the ice had also crushed several of the desk drawers into splinters. A thrill of fear ran through her; her quill had been in there. Her _special_ quill, for keeping those miscreants like Mr. Potter in line. How was she supposed to punish them now?

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. This was not impossible to fix. She'd made the quill once, and she could make it again. It might take a while, but hopefully Mr. Potter would not forget his punishment for some time. She had seen the horror in his eyes during his last detention, the discomfort when she'd gripped his wrist (he'd almost seemed as if he had a headache, but no doubt he was trying to play it off as his "scar hurting", or whatever nonsense he'd been saying last year). Certainly he wouldn't be so eager to smart back for at least a few days.

She turned to the final wall, hardly breathing. Having seen the state of the rest of the room, she was expecting the worst. To her amazement, however, the wall with the ceramic plates was untouched. The kittens on the plates, however, were behaving highly strangely. Several were covering their eyes with their paws, and most of the rest were acting highly distressed. Only one seemed to be unruffled; it was a kitten with a red bow and white fur…

She ground her teeth together. Whoever was responsible for this would pay. She was Dolores Jane Umbridge, the High Inquisitor, and she would get to the bottom of this! As much as she wanted to believe this was Dumbledore's work, it just wasn't possible; he'd been at breakfast before she had. But the timing was too much of a coincidence: the very same day that she had been officially recognized as High Inquisitor, and her office was in shambles? She would find whatever monster or miscreant was responsible by searching for clues while putting her office back the way it was supposed to be; thank heavens she didn't have any classes today.

So it was that Dolores Umbridge, the just-appointed Hogwarts High Inquisitor, spent the entire first day of her new post furiously cleaning her office.

* * *

That afternoon, Harry found himself wandering back to the trophy room, almost as if on autopilot. He would rather have brought Hermione and Ron with him, but the former was currently knitting hats for house elves (which neither he nor Ron thought was a good idea) and the latter was finishing Professor Sprout's assignment. If he was honest, Harry knew that he had a bit more work before his own assignment was finished, but he'd found his mind refusing to cooperate right at the end of the final section; it had instead dwelled solely on the golden statue that had been revealed by whatever Professor Dante had used near it.

Of course, he would certainly share what he found with his two best friends the instant he could, but his own curiosity would not be sated until he'd made some progress on all the strange goings-on at Hogwarts this year.

He entered the room, passing the rows of cups, shields, plaques and medals until he came to the statue. He looked it over, mesmerized by the flowing loop of golden sand. Harry knew very little about art in general, but something about the artwork was oddly beautiful, despite (or perhaps because of) the lion's head. The entire thing seemed to be made of a golden material without rust or blemish, and something about it felt…alive, somehow, but not in a threatening sense, and somehow different from the suits of armour around the castle.

Harry noticed that words were engraved on the base of the statue. _Those who desire to grasp the ancient ways and tools of war shall offer the blood of monsters in tribute._ The last few words made the back of his neck prickle slightly. _The "blood of monsters"? What kind of monsters does it mean?_ His mind flashed back to the red phial that had been in Grimmauld Place, and what the white-haired man had said. _Was that really monster blood? And was this what he meant? He had said something about a statue…_ Absently, he began stepping closer to the object itself; something felt as if he was being drawn to it. A small part of his mind warned him to be wary, to not touch it. But wouldn't Dante have warned them if it had been dangerous?

He reached out his right hand to touch it without thinking. Inches away, however, his hand stopped as his vision caught the still-healing wound on the back of his hand. He paused, wondering just what punishment Umbridge might level against him for "defacing priceless treasures" or whatever such nonsense, even if the statue had been invisible until only a few days ago. But then the thought of defying her right under her nose flew through his mind, and with a surge of daring he stretched his arm out the rest of the way.

The most curious sensation stole over him; his eyes closed, and all his senses seemed to melt away, as if he were drifting off to sleep. And then…then, a most _wonderful_ feeling washed through him; all his pain, his worry, and his stress disappeared. Something like a song seemed to echo through his mind and swell in his chest; it was not phoenix song, but it seemed to be having a powerful effect on him nonetheless. He felt…calm all around him. He felt _peace_. It was a feeling both nostalgic and new, and somehow he knew that no harm could ever come to him here.

A gentle voice whispered around him, and from him, and within him. _"You are welcome here, though you are not yet ready. When you have retrieved life from death, and may bring death with life, then shall you be prepared."_

He felt himself floating away, somewhat reluctant to depart such a place of comfort. But the stirrings of sorrow had no time to take root within him before his senses returned, and he found himself standing in front of the statue once more. He blinked, shaking his head slightly. That had been very strange, and yet not unpleasant. Harry turned and left the room, heading back up to Gryffindor Tower to tell Ron and Hermione about the statue. As he went, however, the words that had been spoken began to fade from his mind, much in the same way that dreams fade after waking.

And though he was able to give his two friends a detailed recounting of the statue and what had happened after touching it, by the time he'd reached them, he had completely forgotten that there had been any words beyond the statue's engravings.

* * *

"Dante…"

He ignored the voice, running the wire brush through the exposed chamber of Ebony. There were two hands that slammed on the desk in front of him.

"Dante!"

He sighed, before fixing a winning smile on his face and looking up. "Well, hey there, Lady. What's up?"

"Don't you 'what's up' me!" she snapped, glaring at him. "You know why I'm here!"

"Do I?" He turned his attention back to cleaning his pistol. "I thought you didn't need an excuse to come yell at me."

"I don't when you keep doing _idiotic things_ ," Lady hissed. "Why did you do something so reckless and stupid?"

"You're gonna have to be WAY more specific."

"Don't play dumb. You promised me, Dante. You _promised_!"

He removed the brush, blowing slightly on the section he'd just finished cleaning. Dante unlocked the slide, and it jumped closed. He gave a small, satisfied smile, holstered the pistol, and reached for Ivory, which was lying on the desk. His hand was stopped by Lady's, which closed around his wrist. "She deserved it."

"That's not the point! I don't care if she's annoying, or rude, or gives out detention like candy; you _promised_ me!"

He looked up at her again, his eyes narrowed and his smile gone. "I didn't mess with her because she _annoyed_ me; you really think I'm that petty? I trashed her office because she was doing some nasty stuff and I wasn't gonna let it slide."

She groaned. "'Nasty'? Oh, please; what could she possibly be doing under Dumbledore's nose?"

"Mutilating teenagers."

There was a deadly quiet for several seconds. Lady released his hand, actually taking a step backwards. "…You're not joking, are you?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"…Shit, you don't. What was she doing?"

He picked up Ivory, ejecting its magazine and locking the slide open. "Harry's detentions apparently involved writing lines. Only…she was the one that was somehow writing lines. Well, actually, she was carving them." He grabbed the wire brush again. "Right into the back of his hand."

He cleaned Ivory in silence for half a minute, while Lady seemed to be thinking through something.

"Do you know how she was doing it?"

"I don't care," he responded flatly. "If she ever does it again, her office gets trashed again. I don't care what she thinks she can do to stop it happening; I'm not letting her lay another hand on Harry."

She gave him a look that almost seemed proud. Proud and almost…wistful. "…At least tell me it felt good."

"It felt good."

Lady let out a sigh. "I suppose I can't be too mad at you, then. But if she does it again, can you at least let me know before you get payback? I'm not thrilled about her hurting kids, either."

"Fair enough."

With no other discussion, and certainly no invitation, she pulled a seat up to the other side of his desk and dropped down into it. Pulling a cloth from one of her pockets and a knife from her jacket liner, she began working on her own weapon as Dante worked on his. They cleaned their weapons for nearly an hour, and never spoke a word the entire time. They didn't need to.

* * *

By that evening, a rumor of something happening to Umbridge's office had spread through the castle. The exact specifics varied wildly depending on who was telling the story: Hannah Abbot assured whoever asked that a pack of poltergeists had been rampaging throughout her office destroying everything in reach, while Colin Creevey stubbornly insisted that the entire room had been turned upside down and half-filled with water. The odd thing was, no one seemed to have _seen_ her office in the state they were describing; the few people that had bothered to drop by to confirm the story had found the office looking relatively normal. The only thing that might support the rumor was that Umbridge was in a foul temper, but that could hardly be called solid evidence.

Rather than dwelling on this interesting new development, however, there was something else that captured Harry's attention that night. From the view he saw out of the window of Gryffindor Tower, there was a light on in Hagrid's cabin. He immediately informed Ron and Hermione, who joined him under the Invisibility Cloak before the three hurriedly set off down to the grounds. On the way, Harry could not help but feel both amused and sad at how difficult it was becoming to keep all three of them under the cloak at once; if they were to stand up fully, the cloak would expose their feet and lower ankles. It seemed strange to think that only a few years ago, it had appeared so much bigger…

They arrived at the cabin door, and Ron knocked eagerly upon it. "Hagrid, it's us!" he called out. To their slight confusion, the footsteps that approached the door seemed much lighter than Hagrid's usual footfalls, and when the bolt was drawn back and the door opened, it was Lady who stood in the doorway.

She blinked, looking outside the door for the source of the noise. "Okay, I know what I heard; who's there?" As Harry pulled the cloak off of them, she jumped back slightly, one of her hands moving inside her jacket and one towards her belt; she stopped once she'd registered who they were. "Oh, it's you. I appreciate the test of my reflexes, but what are you doing here? It's almost curfew, isn't it?"

"We thought that…Hagrid was back," Hermione said, looking highly disappointed. Harry didn't blame her; he'd been so happy to think that Hagrid had finally returned and they would be able to talk to him. "…What are you doing here?"

"Someone has to take care of Fang," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm not living here, or anything, but animals need attention just like people do. And if anything happens in the forest while I'm visiting, I'm not far away."

"Where _are_ you living?" Ron asked.

She ignored him. "Well…come on in, then. Better to be safe." They stepped inside, and Fang immediately bounded forward to greet them. "I suppose I should offer you food or drinks, but I don't know where the tea leaves or whatever are, and you're too young to drink the stuff I have." The woman in white frowned slightly. "I'm not really sure what Rubeus usually serves here for snacks. I found this, but I can't tell if it's edible or not." She took an object from the table and offered it to them tentatively.

Harry looked it over for a moment before he realized what it was. "Oh, that's a rock cake. Hagrid makes those every so often."

"A rock…cake?" Lady raised an eyebrow. "Can't see how you eat the things; they're all rock and no cake."

Hermione looked guiltily at the other two. "Hagrid…tries. And anyway that's not the point! What are you doing in Hagrid's cabin?"

Lady frowned at her. "Like I said, I'm taking care of Fang. Seeing as how I'm filling in as gamekeeper, I'm around here anyway. So I decided to spend a little time with him." She dropped down in a chair, picking up several things that had been scattered across the table. With a jolt of shock, Harry realized that one of the things she had not picked up was clearly a pistol; from the gasp Hermione made, Harry guessed that she had recognized it as well. "Relax, I'm not going to shoot any of you. You caught me while I was re-filling magazines. Now, are you going to sit down or what?"

The three shared looks between themselves, before reluctantly taking seats. "B-but…" stammered Hermione, "that's _illegal_!"

"We're not technically under non-magical law up here, and even if we were, I've got permission." She didn't bother looking up from her mechanical task of feeding one bullet at a time into the magazine in her hand. "And anyway, you've all got wands that could do all sorts of nasty things to people. Some even worse than just killing. And you get to carry the things around with you."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, but didn't manage to speak. Ron seemed confused and trying to work out exactly what was going on. Harry, however, had thought of something. "So you and Dante both have these? And Devil Arms?"

Lady stopped, looking up at him. "Well, we've both got firearms. But he's the only one with Devil Arms. Personally, I don't trust a weapon that can disobey the user."

They didn't get any more information from her after that; in fact, she barely spoke unless questioned, and seemed to be making it a point to use as few words as humanly possible. The three left about twenty minutes later, irritated, confused, and somehow holding two rock cakes each. They made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower, and not long after, went off to bed.

* * *

Despite Ron's assurances the next morning, that they didn't want to be late if Umbridge was inspecting Binns, the so-called "Inquisitor" was not present at History of Magic, nor did she appear in Potions. Ron muttered that this was hardly fair, given that he thought removing Binns and Snape would be the only service Umbridge could ever do for Hogwarts. Harry privately agreed, but felt that it might be best not to say so in Snape's own classroom, even if he was sure that the professor had not actually arrived.

Snape did show up less than a minute after their muttered conversation, and the class carried out in his usual manner. Harry received a "P" on his assignment, which was actually better than he'd been expecting, but he didn't dare show it to Hermione. After lunch (and a discussion about the O.W.L. grading system), he and Ron made their way to Divination. To his surprise (though it might have been because Ron elbowed him in the ribs to get his attention), Umbridge was in the classroom as well, and he felt sure he knew why. Sure enough, once the class had been set to their tasks, Umbridge was asking Professor Trelawney several questions.

Umbridge was still conducting her inspection even as the bell rang, and students began to file out. The final question of the inspection, or rather a request, was for Professor Trelawney to predict something for Umbridge. Had he not loathed Umbridge with every fibre of his being, Harry might have actually been impressed by that.

"The Inner Eye does not See upon command!" Professor Trelawney said in a horrified tone. She gave a noticeable tremble, as if this had been physically repulsive in some way. She also looked highly embarrassed, though Harry felt she was at least fortunate that only five students remained for her to be ashamed in front of.

"I see." Umbridge began to scribble on her clipboard.

" _ **THE DARKNESS APPROACHES."**_

The entire class had gone deadly silent. The quill had actually fallen from Umbridge's hand in surprise as she and everyone else in the room turned to stare at the source of the voice; a voice that Harry had heard only once before, and recognized at once as being from Professor Trelawney. It sounded so far divorced from her usual airy, fairy self that it was as if another person entirely was speaking.

" _ **THE DARKNESS APPROACHES AS THE BRIGHT SOLSTICE DEPARTS…BROUGHT ABOUT BY THOSE WHO WISH TO PROTECT, ENSURED BY ONE WHO STRIVES FOR BALANCE…THE HEROES SHALL VANISH, AND THE DARK LORD SHALL BECOME GREATER AND LESSER THAN HE HAS EVER BEEN BEFORE…AND ONLY WHEN ALL STANDS AT THE BRINK OF RUIN SHALL THE LIGHT OF HOPE BE KINDLED…THE HEROES SHALL VANISH…AS THE BRIGHT SOLSTICE DEPARTS…"**_

Lavender and Parvati were staring at Professor Trelawney with their mouths slightly open, horrorstruck. Ron had gone very pale, gripping his robes so tightly that his knuckles were white. Seamus gave a gulp that was both visible and audible.

Harry's eyes narrowed. He had heard Trelawney speak in this same way once before, and to the best of his knowledge, it had been while making a genuine prophecy. He saw the Professor's head droop until her head rested against her chest as the harsh voice faded away; almost as if she was nodding off.

After a few moments, she gave a small shake and raised her head again. "…Sorry, madam. I must have dozed off. Could you repeat the question?"

Umbridge gave a haughty scoff. "Absurd…to think that you would attempt such a pathetic farce."

"I…I beg your pardon?" She was looking quite confused.

"Prophecies are nothing but stuff and nonsense. Ghost stories to frighten children." She finished scribbling and stared at Trelawney, looking highly disappointed.

"Prophecies? Were we not talking about my class?"

"Don't bother to keep up the act; you're not very good at it, dear. I shall give you the results of your inspection in seven days' time." She spun around, clambering down the ladder to the classroom.

Harry chanced a look at Professor Trelawney while quickly gathering up his school bag. She looked both disorientated and upset, and Harry found himself feeling quite sorry for her. He had little time to dwell on this, however, as he did not want to be late for Defence Against The Dark Arts.

Umbridge seemed irritable for some reason, and gave the odd impression that she was deliberately trying to aggravate Harry. He did his best to let the insults and jibes wash right over him, made easier by the knowledge that someone (who he still didn't know the name of, but felt grateful towards) had supposedly destroyed her office. When he bothered to pay attention to her again, she was carrying on about their previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers.

"None of them, with the exception of Professor Quirrell, used age-appropriate material that would have endeared them to a Ministry inspection…"

Harry forced himself to be calm. No, focused; not calm. He thought idly of being able to lift Rebellion, swinging it with the ease that Dante seemed to have, Umbridge's head flying off her squat body… He shook himself slightly, and instead focused on his book, pretending to read. It was a thankless, seemingly impossible task, but he somehow managed to reach the end of the class without talking back or shouting. He briefly worried that his standards were falling, if he was jubilant about making it through a single class without receiving a detention.

The class immediately after was Defence, which seemed like quite possibly one of the best rewards for his earlier patience. The class proceeded much as he'd hoped it would; their practical tests on aerial demons involved markedly different spells than they'd used in the previous lesson. To facilitate practicing against an aerial target, Dante had very nonchalantly jumped up and stabbed Rebellion straight into the wall, and then pulled himself up to stand on the flat of the blade. While the rest of the class was shocked at this, Harry merely smiled, impressed at the show of balance.

They all tried their spells against him, but it was more difficult this time; rather than simply standing atop the blade, their instructor would dodge, duck, and perform astonishing feats of gymnastics with the embedded sword to dodge the majority of the spells. Some hit, though: an ice-making spell from Hermione, an Incendio from Dean, and Harry could have sworn that a Cutting Charm from Ron had grazed the white-haired man's cheek, but there was no scratch to be found when he took a second look. Harry, for his part, sent a jet of water at both Professor Dante and the sword he was using as a platform. The man's foot slipped when he tried to land on the blade, flipping backwards rapidly, but his momentum stopped immediately as he grabbed the hilt with a hand, raised above the sword with seemingly no effort.

At the end of the class, they were all instructed to prepare for the next class, where they would be focusing on aquatic threats. Harry could not see how they were to carry their spells out in practice without taking a trip to the lake, but looked forward to the class nonetheless.

When the bell rang, however, as Ron and Hermione left to go to dinner, he hung back; after their practical session, Dante had placed the sword on his back rather than back on the wall. He strode purposefully out of the door, and Harry followed at a respectable distance.

As expected, the man did not go down to dinner with everyone else. Instead, he walked up to the sixth floor, and as he did, Harry noticed that he was reading off what looked like a roll of parchment. The professor stopped at a small alcove, holding up the same object he'd held to reveal the golden statue. From the angle he was at, Harry thought that it looked like a large eyeball. Just as before, the wall rippled like water, and a door was revealed. Dante walked through, but left the door open behind him. Harry took immediate advantage of this, and followed him through the door.

The room on the other side was high-ceilinged and wider than he was expecting. It was also quite barren, save for a small, shield-like object on the wall at the far end.

"Well, what do you think?" Dante asked, turning around to stare at him. "You ever seen a place like this?"

Harry wasted little time lamenting his pointless sneaking. Instead, he walked further into the room, looking around. "No. I haven't ever seen a place like this before. Do you think we could use it as a new training area?"

Dante shook his head. "Now that I've made the door visible, anyone could walk right in. It didn't have a lock on it, just a handle; go figure, huh?" He motioned for Harry to follow him closer to the shield or whatever it was on the far wall.

Once they'd gotten closer, Harry noticed some words under the shield itself. A plaque read: _"Thou who seeks Dreq's azure embers must guide the light of hope. Only when it reaches the end of infinity shall the fires be yours."_ He looked at the red-coated man. "Do you know what it means?"

"Basically. Stand back." Harry retreated several steps; once he had, Dante began slashing at the shield with his blade. Each time he did so, symbols lining the outer rim were lit with white fire. When the entire rim had been lit, a large symbol on the center flashed with brilliant light, and there was a rumbling in the room. Several statues began to rise out of hidden locations, and not just from the floor; some extended from the walls and even the ceiling. Nearly all of them were holding what looked like reflective dishes set at specific angles. The two exceptions were a statue that had appeared on one of the walls and a statue that had risen out of the floor. The first was holding a dish marked with an infinity symbol, and above its head was a small indentation in the wall blocked off by a barbed gate. The last was a statue with curled horns and slightly distorted features, which was holding a dish that was projecting a beam of light that was currently bouncing off of the nearest mirrored dish in front of it.

"Whoa…" he muttered.

"Yeah, these puzzles love their theatrics. And this is one of the tamer ones." Dante examined the statue that was in the line of sight of the light-source statue. "Hmm…these look different than the ones I'm used to. Actually, they kinda look like…oh, please no. Really?" He let out a long sigh.

"What? What is it?"

Dante had a deep frown on his face. "This puzzle looks like one I've seen in another castle, minus a few levers and plus the statues. The statues have to be turned so that _that-_ " He pointed at the beam of light being projected from its origin. "Hits _that_." He pointed at the "infinity" dish. "Don't get me wrong, I'm good with angles, but this is a bit much even for me."

Harry looked the room over for a few moments before shrugging. "Well, shall we just try one and see what happens?"

Dante smiled. "Eh, why not? A better idea than just hoping it solves itself." Both of them moved to the first statue and tried to turn it; it remained firmly in place. "Ooookay…then let's try another one." The next statue could be turned quite easily, but would only rotate for a quarter turn. Depending on the way it was rotated, it could be directed to reflect the light beam at one of three other reflectors. The statues that held them, in turn, could continue the beam into multiple different directions as well; two of them reflected the light up towards the ceiling, and one reflected it at a wall. "…This is gonna take a while."

And so it did. It took them nearly an hour of moving around the various statues; thankfully, only one of the statues on the ceiling had needed turning, and Dante had made a tall ice platform to be able to reach it. When the beam of light finally contacted the dish with the infinity sign on it, the symbol lit up, and the barbed gate above it slid open, receding into the wall and revealing a glowing blue object.

"Don't mind if I do," said Dante, pulling the object out and showing it to Harry. It appeared to be a bottle of what looked like azure flames. Harry was reminded of the bluebell flames that Hermione was so adept at casting, but these had a somewhat brighter hue. "Well, that's one down. Congrats, kid; we just solved one of the world-famous Seventy-Seven Mysteries."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. _That_ had been a Mystery?! It hadn't seemed dangerous at all. Nor could he see how a clever wizard could not have solved it centuries ago. Unless… "Dante, where did you get that eyeball thing?"

The man shrugged. "You're welcome, I guess. And anyway, that's a whole other story. I could tell you, but wouldn't you rather grab something to eat while you still can?" He stuffed the bottle in his pocket, saluting Harry with two fingers as he began walking to the door. "'Til next time, kid."

"Hey, wait!" But he had already left. Harry sighed. "No one wants to tell me _anything_ , do they?"

* * *

Far away, in a darkened room deep in the Ministry, a map on one wall was decorated with a number of lights that shifted from one colour to another in a slow, steady rhythm. The two people who worked in this room were preparing to leave for the night, grabbing their Muggle attire and chatting with each other about their plans for Halloween. It had been a long day, and it was likely that the next would be even longer, so they enjoyed the small chance they could take to simply talk without worry of work. This of course meant that their attention was on each other, as it tends to be for any sort of polite conversation, and they left without reservation for their homes.

And because of this, neither noticed one of the pulsing lights wink out and die.

* * *

CHAPTER END

I was hoping to have this out about a week ago, when it was about 2,000 words shorter, but it didn't feel right to stop at that point. Sorry about that, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter anyway!

Hope you're all having a good summer; it's the longest day of the year, so more time to soak up those rays of sunlight. :-)


	11. Chapter 11: Teacher and Student

Chapter 11: Teacher and Student

"YOU SOLVED ONE OF THE-?!"

"Oi, keep it down!" Harry hissed, putting a finger to his lips. He pulled Hermione back down into her seat in the common room as several other Gryffindors stared over at her in bewilderment. "Yes, I helped to solve one. But try not to announce it; we're not supposed to mess about with the Mysteries, are we?"

"Why didn't you bring us with you?" she whispered angrily. "You know we've been looking into them ever since we've heard about them!"

"There wasn't time," he said, sighing. He'd known she would react like this; Hermione hated not being first, even if it wasn't schoolwork. "I didn't know where he was going, and you two had already gone down to dinner."

"Those Mysteries have been around for centuries, and the two of you just had to move a few mirrors to solve one," muttered Ron, shaking his head. "Mental."

"Dante used that same thing he used to reveal those other things in the trophy room and armour gallery; some kind of large eyeball. I don't think he would have found the mirrors without that."

"And that's another thing," Hermione cut in, frowning. "How _did_ he find it in the first place? The way you described, he went straight to the room; did you get a good look at the parchment he was using?"

"No." He had thought of this particular point on the way back, and briefly considered using the Invisibility Cloak to sneak a look at it, but couldn't see how he was supposed to get it from Dante's coat and gave up on the idea. "Hey; you think one of the teachers gave it to him?"

"Yeah, you're right!" Ron said, grinning. "McGonagall showed him where the trophy room was; I'll bet she gave him a list of all the Mysteries in the castle! All the staff probably know where they are, so they can keep us away from them."

"But then why didn't she go with?" asked Hermione, frowning. "She was down at the feast with us."

Harry mulled this over, frowning. "You don't think…maybe it's like the end of our first year? Maybe they want us to figure things out for ourselves."

"Mental," Ron repeated, stretching his arms. "You'd think after four years they could give us a few hints." He settled back into the chair. "Well, next time we're going with you. Even if we're in the middle of lunch or dinner, you let us know and we'll drop it."

"I didn't think anything was important enough to drag you away from dinner," Hermione muttered, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Ho ho," grumbled Ron.

* * *

Dante stepped away from the statue. "Well, fifty-fifty's better than a full 'no'." He looked at the phial of blood in his hand; one of the ones from Grimmauld Place. "Still, how's she expect me to know it was human blood? Dunno what the hell I'm supposed to do with all of it now…" He pocketed it for the time being. _At least I didn't make a wasted trip here! Some cool new stuff for the whip, and I get to look forward to a few new tricks for the old weapons eventually. …Not that I'm exactly thrilled about the idea of demons running around a school, but everything ends up worst-case with us eventually. Good to be prepared._

"That's a new statue."

Dante whirled around, reaching a hand into his coat, but froze once he saw his mystery guest. _Sheesh…just a kid. But how did she get here without me noticing?_ "…You're up late," he said, removing his hand from his coat and folding his arms. _What was her name again?_

The girl with dirty-blonde hair nodded. "Exploring helps to clear my head. But I usually don't encounter anyone else when I come here."

"Yeah, well…I had a few things of my own to clear up." He looked at her, racking his brains to try- Luna! That was her name. "Not many people can sneak up on me; I'm impressed, Luna."

"People overlook what they don't expect. And you weren't expecting me to be here."

Sheesh, if she ever got into a "let's-see-who-can-act-the-most-detached" contest with Trish, that would be some serious competition. Unless they decided to ignore the competition and kick him in the head, just because they felt bored. Thinking of this, his eyes glanced down at her feet. Her _bare_ feet. "It's pretty cold at night; you sure you don't wanna wear shoes?"

Luna seemed to ignore him completely, staring past him to look at the Watcher of Time. "I've never seen anything like this before. It's very beautiful."

Whatever; if she didn't want to talk about it, he wasn't going to press the issue. He turned to glance at it as well. "It's called the Watcher of Time. It represents an all-knowing being that records all of space and time." He briefly toyed with telling her the full story, but felt that if she was going to be mysterious, he could be too. "They say she also teaches the ways of war, but only to the worthy."

"Like you?"

He smirked; he could see that she'd left the question ambiguous on purpose, and he wasn't going to take the bait. "You could say that." The white haired man yawned. "Well, it's getting late. I'll bring you back up to your common room so you don't get any detentions."

She complied, but something kept bugging him as they went up the stairs in the direction of the Ravenclaw common room. It wasn't the quiet, or the unconcerned air about her. Still, if he didn't know any better, he thought he'd seen a spark of recognition during their conversation.

* * *

Monday was uneventful (aside from the once-more mounting homework, but Harry was beginning to become resigned to it by now), and so was Tuesday morning, but Transfiguration on Tuesday was a lesson inspected by the "High Inquisitor".

And it was _glorious_. If Dumbledore wasn't avoiding him, Harry might have asked to borrow the Pensieve.

Still, even with the thought of Umbridge's latest shortcoming fresh in his mind, he was beginning to get worried about the letter he'd sent to Sirius. He had tried several times to think about how it would look to an outsider, and did his best to make their view of his message vague, but if he'd missed something big-

"Oi, Harry!"

He started; Ron was waving his hand right in front of Harry's face. "Sorry. Just thinking about the inspection."

Ron's worried expression turned dreamy. "Yeah, that was brilliant, wasn't it? You'd think she'd have known better than to jump right to McGonagall after Trelawney."

"She probably wants to get anything she can on Professor McGonagall because she's so close to Dumbledore," said Hermione knowledgeably. "She'll have a hard time trying to go for a 'poor teaching' angle, though; I don't think there's a witch or wizard alive who knows as much about Transfiguration, apart from Dumbledore."

"Good," Harry said, smirking. "I can't wait to see the look on her face when the only one sacked by the end of the year is Umbridge."

"Speaking of the look on Umbridge's face," said Ron, "did you notice? She was in a right little temper before the class even started. Wonder what that was all about?"

Harry and Hermione shrugged. While the thought of things that might irritate their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was worthwhile, Harry's mind was already back to worrying about Sirius.

They had another inspected lesson in Care of Magical Creatures, and for the majority of the lesson, Harry was quite content with ignoring Umbridge in favour of completing the task set to them; collecting knarl quills without being injured by the animals that they came from. He did catch a few things; Grubbly-Plank was planning on taking them through porlocks and bowtruckles if Hagrid was not back soon, and she had no idea where Hagrid was either. Unfortunately, one of Umbridge's comments that he overheard wrenched his attention away from the lesson completely.

"Now, there have been injuries in this class, I hear."

Harry knew what was coming, and he knew, as Hagrid's friend, he couldn't stomach it silently. He had to do _something_! And so, without thinking…

"ProfessordoBowtrucklesliveinnonwandtrees?" he blurted out.

Both Umbridge and Professor Grubbly-Plank turned to look at him. "Didn't catch that, Potter," Professor Grubbly-Plank said, with an interested expression.

He swallowed, quickly reorganizing his thoughts. "I was wondering, Professor; are Bowtruckles that live in wand trees different from others?"

She considered his question thoughtfully. "Well, most of them seem to prefer wand trees; perhaps. They won't dwell in mundane trees, of course, but a difference between them…" She tapped her chin, thinking for a moment. "I can't say I've ever considered it. Thinking of making an extracurricular study, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded. "It's very fascinating," he lied. While he was quite keen on avoiding any additional homework when he was very near drowning in it already, Harry knew that if he allowed Umbridge's line of questioning to continue, he would lose his temper as well as his chance to train the following day. If he could distract Grubbly-Plank now, it was worth the consequences.

As the lesson ended, however, he was starting to doubt that point. He had succeeded in capturing the professor's attention (and in a way Umbridge couldn't punish him for, either), and she had enthusiastically discussed his sudden project idea with him for the rest of the lesson. While they wouldn't be covering bowtruckles for a few weeks yet, he was to study them until the lessons changed over to that subject, and have the answer ready when they started on bowtruckles.

And when they finally returned to Gryffindor Tower, he thought he might have made a terrible mistake when he was once more confronted with the homework he had been dreading. _Just once, an easy assignment would be appreciated,_ he thought.

Wednesday was interesting in several ways. The first was that they discovered what had been bothering Umbridge; apparently, she was receiving a small shock every time she touched the handle of her classroom door. This would not have been so unusual in most circumstances, but curiously, it was only happening to her. The second interesting thing was that somehow, against all odds, he scraped another "Poor" in Potions. While this would hardly be worth celebrating normally, a Poor for Harry was essentially an Acceptable for anyone else, and both he and Snape knew it; the letter "P" looked as if it had been scratched with a quill under intense pressure.

The last interesting way was, of course, more training with Dante. …Though the trip down the entrance of the antechamber was no more pleasant than it had been the first time.

"So, last time we got to see how you fight with no warning. Call it a first day pop quiz."

"Did I pass?" Harry muttered before he could stop himself.

"Well…you did okay, but there's room for improvement. That was the easy part. Now the hard work starts." He grinned at Harry's shocked look. "What, you thought it was always gonna be that simple?"

"'Simple'?! You almost took my head off!"

He rolled his eyes. "That was not even close to me trying. I wasn't about to go all out on the first day of training."

Harry gaped at him. All the frantic, desperate defenses on his part…and the man hadn't even put in any effort?! "…But I gave it all I had…I could barely hold a quill the rest of the day…"

"Don't look so down, kid. We'll get you toughened up before long. Sure, it'll be rough to start with. But there's always a price to pay, and a little exhaustion and muscle aches are pretty small prices overall. Especially considering the badass we're gonna turn you into."

Harry looked at the man. He was wearing a small smile; an encouraging one. He still felt nervous, and definitely tired, but he was determined to see this through. "Okay. What am I fighting with today?"

The man chuckled. "Not quite so fast. We're not gonna spar again until next week. But I wanna see if you remember what we've learned; what was lesson one?"

"…Be aware of everything?" It was a little difficult to remember, given the fight for his life he'd gone through (or so he'd thought at the time).

"Are you askin' me or telling me?"

"Telling. Be aware of everything," said Harry, his voice firmer.

Dante nodded. "Good. Now, while we were sparring, did you learn anything else?"

Harry thought for a moment. The answer seemed simple, but…was it the correct one? "You're too fast for me," he grumbled, only half-serious.

The professor beamed. "Yep! And that's what we're gonna work on today. You've gotta see faster, move faster, and _think_ faster if you want to stand a chance in a real fight; I'm sure you know how crazy a fight can get."

He gave a nod in response, but said nothing. He was surprised his first impulse had been correct, to be honest, and was slightly annoyed at the implication that he didn't stand a chance in a "real" fight already.

"Since this isn't a sudden deadly struggle, you've got time to warm up. Do some stretches and let me know when you're ready, so we can start a few simple exercises."

Harry stared at him blankly. "…Stretches? I haven't done those since primary school, and I don't remember half of them."

Dante sighed, shaking his head. "What do they teach you guys at this school?"

"Witchcraft and wizardry. It's in the name."

He gave a snort, but immediately brought his expression to one of calm. "Well, here. Let's go through these one at a time…"

It was an oddly nostalgic feeling as they went through stretches; Harry thought of the phys ed classes that he and Dudley had gone through when they were younger. They had been the only times Harry had ever dared to excel over his cousin, knowing that he would be too tired and angry at the teacher afterward to care about who had run faster or jumped higher. Even then, he hadn't particularly enjoyed them at the time; looking back, though, they might have helped him to be good at running away from Dudley and his gang. Perhaps they'd even prepared him for Quidditch, somehow?

The exercises themselves were actually far simpler than he'd expected. Granted, that didn't make them any more enjoyable to do while in the dank antechamber of the Chamber of Secrets; doing push-ups was less than pleasant on stone that was both damp and cold. Worse, Harry hated that their final exercise was doing lunges. He knew that they wouldn't bother him right away, but that they _would_ make his muscles begin to ache terribly come evening time.

"Okay, that should about do it. Now that you're warmed up, we're gonna start today's training. We'll work on making you ready to react to anything while still keeping focus on where it needs to be. So I'm gonna throw lightning bats at you."

Harry blinked. "…Sorry?"

"Don't worry, they'll be low-powered," reassured the white-haired man. "I'm not gonna risk killing you. But they'll still sting like hell if they connect, so you'll definitely want to avoid them. While you're doing that, I want you to hit me with that water spell you and your friends were using in class Friday. I'll keep track of who scores hits, and we'll see who wins." With that, he pulled something from behind his back into his hands, seemingly from nowhere.

Harry stared at the strange object. "Is that a…guitar?"

"An _electric_ guitar," Dante added helpfully. "Step back a couple feet, and we'll get started." Harry obeyed, staring at the man once he'd stopped. "Ready…set…go!" Several long, thin arcs of electricity ignited across the neck of the guitar, and the professor made a strumming motion.

Two small forms launched from the guitar; Harry could just see that they were bats surrounded by bright purple lightning before he jumped to the side, drawing his wand. " _Aguamenti_!" he shouted, pointing at Dante. A jet of water burst from the tip of his wand, and hit the white-haired man's hand. There was a small chuckle from him, and then he plucked the strings of the guitar a second time. Harry saw another bat form before he gave a gasp of pain; he'd stopped after scoring the hit on his training partner, and one of the bats from before impacted the small of his back with a short squeak. The shock of electricity hurt, but it was no worse than a moderately strong static shock.

"One to one," Dante called to him as he twisted out of the way of the two new bats. "But if you stand still, this is gonna get really one-sided."

Harry thought that was a bit rich, coming from someone who had very clearly planted his feet and was only moving his arms, but he understood the point clearly. He began jogging around the stationary professor, firing another jet of water. His aim was slightly off, and he missed; still, he managed to dodge the bats that swooped at him, and two fizzled out without touching him.

Dante began playing the guitar in a very slow, very low tune; only every few seconds did a note play and summon another electric bat. After ducking under another bat that frizzled into nothingness harmlessly, Harry realized something. _These bats have a time limit. He's replacing them just as fast as they disappear, but if I can keep the number of them in mind…_ He skidded to a stop and changed directions rapidly, causing his small pursuers to fly right past him. He sent another two jets of water at Dante, and both managed to connect, even if the second only grazed him. He tried to slide out of the way of the bats as they closed in on him again; he succeeded in moving past the first two, but the last one caught him in the chest, taking some of the wind out of him. He gritted his teeth and began moving again.

They continued for some time. Harry could tell that the attacks of the bats were changing frequently; every time he figured out their pattern, they would fly at him in a different method, and it would take him several seconds to adapt to them once more. After he managed to score three rapid hits in succession on his opponent, the red-coated man smiled to himself. "You're not too bad; you're pickin' this up even quicker than I thought you would. All right, then. Let's turn up the volume a little bit!" His stance changed, the weight shifting so that he was no longer solidly in place. "I heard Nero play this little number once; time to rock!" He began bouncing on the balls of his feet as he played with more gusto, and the song switched to something slightly more fast-paced.

Harry kept trying to move unpredictably, but it was more difficult now; the little lightning bats were forming more quickly and attacking more fiercely, lasting longer before disappearing. The red-coated man was actually moving out of the way of his spells, and it was taking more effort and concentration to keep his accuracy. Several times he would score a hit, only to take a shock that came from an unexpected angle. He'd lost all track of who was currently in the lead, and felt a twinge of frustration that he seemed to be the only one being punished for taking hits.

Several minutes later, two bats caught him in the midsection at the same time while he had moved to attack and change direction simultaneously; the resulting electricity coursed through him, knocking the wind out of him and making him skid to a halt. Somehow, amazingly, he had not fallen down; though how, he could not have said.

Dante finished his tune, and the last of the bats disappeared. "Well, looks like it's about that time. You did all right, kid. We're not gonna be fighting next time, but bring your wand anyway. Always good to be armed just in case."

Harry shook his arms out, trying to banish the tingling in them. "Hold on, who won? You said you were keeping track."

"I did say that, didn't I? Whoops. Guess I musta lost count about the time you hit me in the face twice." He laughed.

Harry did not. "Glad you can at least laugh; I think my fingertips have gone numb," he snapped, still shaking his arms out. _Easy enough for you to lose count when you're not the one getting electrocuted,_ he thought to himself.

"What's with the sour look?" He moved the guitar behind himself, and then folded his empty arms across each other. By the look on his face, he seemed to know what Harry had left unsaid. "You know, every time you hit me with water, it shorted the juice through me. You think you had it bad; you ever grab the business end of a cattle prod? Picture that, and you've got a good clue how it felt every time you landed a hit." He snorted as he saw Harry's surprised look. "What, you thought I was going to make you go through all that and not take a hit myself?"

There was silence for several moments. "…I'm sorry," said Harry.

Dante sighed, shaking his head. "Well, it's a lesson for you, anyway. No matter how good you are, no matter how quick you are, sooner or later you're gonna have to take a few hits; if you can't, you'll be in big trouble. I'll admit you don't wanna take the hits if you can help it, but if you can't, it's a good idea to limit how much it shakes you up. Some things you can't afford to be hit with _ever_ , but usually those ones have a long windup or take a long time to recharge; still, it's handy to be able to shake off the small stuff."

Harry was quiet for a while. This was all a lot to take in, and he was wondering if he should have been using Shield Charms during their little "game"; his first impulse was yes, and that he'd been foolish for not thinking of them, but clearly his instructor had been trying to make what seemed to be a valid point. "So what you're saying is, sometimes the best defence is…no defence?"

The man scoffed. "The best defense is not being in the way of the other guy's offense. What I'm saying is, with practice, you can let the small stuff graze you and counterattack at the same time; your enemy will never be more wide open than in the middle of an attack."

Harry took a moment to consider this. Now that he thought about it, he seemed to remember that most of his successful spell attempts had been done while Dante was already occupied with an attack of his own; in addition, it seemed he had always been in the middle of casting or just finished when he was shocked by the bats. Actually…during his first year, hadn't he landed the finishing attack on Quirrell while the man had been just about to kill him?

"Hell, if you get good at that, I'll teach you how to block and attack at the same time. It's not easy, but you would not BELIEVE how useful it is." He drew the whip that had conjured water during their last training session. "Anyway, it's about that time."

* * *

When Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower that night, both exhausted and thoughtful, he found Ron and Hermione waiting for him. "Hey. What are you two still doing up?"

They exchanged a look. "How's training going?" Hermione asked him.

Harry frowned. "Unusual, but it's pretty cool. Why?"

Ron nodded, almost to himself. "We've been talking a little bit and…well, since Umbridge isn't any good as a professor…"

"We…sort of had an idea we wanted to ask you about…" Hermione began, but faltered slightly under Ron's look of disapproval. "Well, okay, _I_ had the idea, but it concerns all of us."

Harry looked between them, curious. "…What, do you want training too?" He'd meant it as a joke, but when they didn't answer, he smiled. "Well, you can always ask, but someone might notice if we all crowd into Myrtle's bathroom."

"That's not exactly what we had in mind," Hermione said. She bit her lip nervously. "But…well, some hands-on practice would certainly help us to learn how to defend ourselves."

"And pass our O.W.L.s," Ron provided, looking pointedly at her.

She fidgeted slightly. "…Well, okay, that as well. What do you think, Harry?"

He shrugged. "I think it's a great idea. But isn't Dante-"

"Actually," Ron cut in, "we thought we should probably have someone else teach us. Dante's good, no mistaking," he added hurriedly at a look from Harry, "but he doesn't seem to know any spells. Or at least, none that we can use."

"And what's more, Umbridge hates him," added Hermione. "I can't see why she hasn't inspected his class yet, honestly. Clearly there's something off about the things that he does, and he's the only professor that's an American; he never wears robes and he's got all those weapons that-"

"Hermione."

She jumped slightly at Ron's voice. "Right! Sorry. But Dante's already busy with classes. We were thinking of someone who knew a lot of spells with lots of practical experience using them."

Harry frowned. "…McGonagall, then?"

"Well…she would be very good, but we'd have a similar problem with any of the teachers as we'd have with Dante, really."

"But…if we can't get a teacher, who's going to teach us?"

Hermione shot a nervous look at Ron before looking at Harry with the air of someone choosing their words very delicately. "Well…actually…"

* * *

CHAPTER END

My, how time flies...this one's late for Tanabata, much to my disappointment. Still, it's here; hope it's okay!

Next chapter we're really going to start getting the ball rolling...


	12. Chapter 12: Herd and Heard

Chapter 12: Herd and Heard

Lady had learned something new about herself.

Contrary to what Dante might say, she was not "angry by default". In fact, she was _calm_ by default. So long as someone didn't actively push her buttons (like certain smug half-demons with white hair), Lady could be quite pleasant to others. Where Dante poked and prodded in conversations, she at least started by listening and only snapped when it became clear that she was not being listened to or respected. But of course she already knew all of _that_. That was old news. Still, it provided background for what she had just learned.

Lady hated centaurs. She wasn't annoyed by them, or disgusted with them, or simply disliked them. She _hated_ them.

She'd never say it to his face, but for all his faults, she appreciated that Dante would always hear her out in the end. Even if he didn't agree with her, or act like he was listening, or decide to bother doing anything she asked if it didn't interest him, he would at least give her the simple courtesy of listening when she spoke. Basic respect was all she asked for, and he gave it.

But these centaurs did _not_.

Lady rubbed her temples, doing her level best to keep her cool. "Ignoring Venus for the moment-"

"When its colour is so unusual and its radiance more defined?" the crimson-haired centaur asked, frowning. "Clearly this aspect should not be ignored."

She tried again. "I was wondering if you'd noticed anything unusual _in the forest_."

"I am speaking with an unfamiliar human. Is that not unusual?"

She knew damn well he was cleverer than he was letting on, and he probably had a good idea what _exactly_ she was asking. But she was running out of patience. "So apart from me you haven't discovered anything else? Anything that might be a danger to the students at this school?"

"Many things in this forest are a danger to the students, should they wander into it."

She let out a long, steadying sigh. "…Okay, then. Thanks for talking with me, Elatus." He merely nodded at her, and then returned to looking up into the sky. She trudged back in the direction of Hagrid's hut, glowering. _Well, if I'm the strangest thing he's come across, then we're probably okay on the demon front for now._ She trekked for several minutes before stopping suddenly. Abruptly she leapt upwards to grab a tree branch; she swung back and forth a few times to build up momentum before flipping herself upwards to grab another branch. She repeated the process twice more, and then landed on a large, somewhat flat branch. Balancing carefully on it, she walked to the massive tree trunk; though it appeared to be an otherwise unremarkable tree, she passed straight through the bark into a large hollow lit by three small lanterns and containing a small bedroll, a rucksack, several notes, and scattered weapon parts. Lady removed Kalina Ann from her back. "Damn centaurs; if Dante ever meets them, the inevitable argument's gonna last _weeks_." She set the launcher onto the mount that had been staked to the inside of the tree, and then dropped onto the bedroll in frustration. She shook her head, sighing, before looking around her shelter. _Have to admit that these witches and wizards sure know their stuff. Hope that Minerva will take payback in the form of a few drinks on me._ Shrugging, she picked up some of the scattered parts, pulling them closer before grabbing a half-carved block of wood and drawing a knife from its holster. _Speaking of drinks, I'd better talk Dante into a bet with me this week; he's got something that might help with this._

* * *

"-and that is why you never, _ever_ , trust anyone who promises free pizza." Dante nodded seriously at all the horrified-looking second years. The bell rang. "Homework for next time; I want you to come up with at least three ways to find out if what you see and hear is actually true. And I'll make you redo it if you say 'hit it until it stops moving'!" he warned as they filed out. He shook his head. _You gotta admire the Creevey kid's spirit, but he needs a little sense along with it…_ His expression brightened as Hermione walked into the room. "Hey there! I'd say good morning, but it doesn't feel like it with all the cloud cover. Don't you guys ever have sun?"

"Hello, Professor." She seemed to be ignoring the comment about the weather. "I had a few questions about…well, about demons."

"Well, you've come to the right guy. I've got a while before my next class, but won't you be late for yours?"

"I have a few minutes." She looked at him weirdly; if he didn't know any better he would have said she was split between curiosity and suspicion. "Where exactly do demons come from?"

"Hell." He looked back at her, raising an eyebrow. "Is that really what you were confused about?"

"I _meant_ do they reproduce?"

"Some do, some don't. It differs between the types."

She frowned. "Well, what exactly is Hell?"

"Different every time I go there; it varies depending on where you end up."

Her eyebrows rose. "You've been there?"

"You bet. They ought to start giving me frequent flyer miles at this point. But if you're askin' for a map, you're going to be disappointed; the Demon World doesn't play by the same rules as this one."

Despite her suspicion and obvious growing doubt, she responded immediately. "For example?"

He gave a grim smile. "Gravity is more like a suggestion than a solid rule. Time fluctuates, and what might take a minute to travel to the first time you try might take a day the second time. And don't expect anything to stay the same for very long; you might be strolling across a lake of blood at one moment, then walking on the ceiling of a room full of impossible stairways, then running across a bottomless sky where a path forms under your feet. And even with all that, it's packed with as many demons as you have people in this world. Maybe more." Her mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out. "Yeah, there's definitely fish. _Devil_ fish, but that's not surprising. And the worst part is, it's the demons' home, so they're at their most powerful there. Even the weakest one in the Human World would be a tough fight in the Demon World, and that's not even getting into the kind of whoop-ass you'd need to take down a Greater Demon in its home."

"A…'Greater' Demon?"

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "How do I put this…okay, think of it this way. You know how younger dragons are dangerous, but still not at full strength?" She nodded, and the look on her face suggested she knew all too well how difficult a young dragon was to handle. Wasn't that illegal? Maybe he was remembering it wrong. "Well, some demons get stronger with age, just like dragons. I think. It's tough to remember all the different things you do and don't have." Dante shook his head. "Anyway, a Greater Demon is usually a lot older, sometimes a lot smarter, and definitely a lot more powerful than your Lesser Demon."

From the look on her face, she wanted to believe that what he'd said was wrong. And yet her curiosity meant that she couldn't help herself. "How old _can_ a demon get?"

"Really old."

"How old is 'really old'?" asked Hermione, a touch of impatience entering her voice.

"A good thousand years plus. And they don't have an upper limit, so some of them just keep getting older and older." He chuckled at the look of shock on her face. "You'd think that wizards would know this kind of stuff, if they've been around for as long as people have."

A glint of determination entered her eye. "…You would, wouldn't you?"

He nodded. "And usually when people discover something new, dangerous, or both, they tell other people about it."

"They do, yes."

"And if it's something really bad…like, say, monsters that don't play by the rules of nature or physics…you'd figure that someone somewhere might have wanted to commit that to writing, so they could be prepared for when it showed up again."

She'd almost started walking to the door before he'd even finished speaking. He called to her before she left. "Turn it in a month from now and I'll give you extra credit!" The door closed rapidly, and he chuckled. "That was almost too easy. Maybe we'll finally get some answers about what's going on here."

* * *

Harry wandered across the grounds Saturday morning, lost in thought. Several things had happened in the past week that he was still trying to sort through; the solution of a Mystery, his training (which would have its third session that evening), finally having overcome some of his homework and resigning himself to the fact that more was on the way. There were personal things; Seamus still thought he was mad, Dumbledore was still disappointingly distant, he hadn't had much of a chance to talk with Cho at all, and Hedwig had yet to come back with a response from Sirius, which was making him slightly nervous.

But more than all the rest, he was thinking over the conversation of Wednesday night, when he'd returned to the Gryffindor Common Room.

" _I'm talking about_ _ **you**_ _, Harry."_

"… _What?"_

The idea had seemed so ridiculous. How could Hermione suggest that Harry of all people should be the one to teach a replacement class for Defence Against the Dark Arts? He had posed this question that night, as well.

" _Well, for starters, you've gone up against You-Know-Who…what is it, three times now?" Ron asked, grinning slightly._

 _Harry felt a slight queasiness as the hint of the memory of the graveyard flitted through his mind. "Twice; Riddle's diary wasn't actually him."_

" _Still two more than us."_

" _And I wouldn't have even been able to stop him the first time if it wasn't for you two!" Harry said fiercely._

" _You've…well…" Hermione seemed to flush slightly. "You've gotten better marks in the Defence Against the Dark Arts tests than I have."_

 _Ron smirked. "Except second year. Tell us again, Hermione, what_ was _the favourite colour of Gilderoy Lock-"_

" _Oh, shut up!" she snapped, her face turning even more pink. "The point is that Harry knows the subject!"_

" _Only because I had lessons with Professor Lupin-" Harry began to protest, but Hermione cut him off._

" _That was only for the Patronus Charm, and it never came up in our exams. But it might in the O.W.L.s, so we could really do with learning how to cast them properly."_

" _And there was the Triwizard Tournament," Ron added._

" _Which I only did well in because you two were coaching me!" Harry insisted._

" _We weren't there when you were down in the lake," he pointed out. "We weren't with you against the dragon. We weren't at that graveyard-"_

" _Don't you talk to me about that place," Harry growled warningly._

" _But don't you see, Harry?" asked Hermione worriedly, a pleading look on her face. "Now that he's back…we're all in danger. We all need to be ready, or…" She gulped. "Well…it won't just be Cedric who..."_

 _Harry nodded, more to stop her from finishing her sentence than anything else. "I understand what you're getting at. I just…it's all so sudden. I need some time to think about it, okay?"_

And so he had thought about it. The only problem was that his view of the idea seemed to change whenever he thought about it. Sometimes it seemed just as absurd as when Hermione had first suggested he be the one to teach it. Sometimes it seemed to be no bother, as if it were merely another after-school group; no different from Quidditch. And once or twice, without meaning to, he found himself halfway through a lesson plan on something he'd experienced or noticed during his training with Dante.

He sighed. The whole thing was just too ridiculous, honestly. Even if a part of him found the idea of teaching his favourite subject exciting, he was just too young. He wasn't anything like Lupin or McGonagall; how could he guide others when half the people in the castle thought he was a deranged attention-seeker? No, he'd just have to tell Hermione that he couldn't do it.

He blinked, suddenly aware of where he was. He'd walked right past Hagrid's hut and into the outer edge of the Forbidden Forest. He was on the path, thankfully, so all he had to do was turn back. It would be safer that way. But then he saw a flash of something some distance away. It had almost looked like a person. He fixed his gaze on where he'd seen the image. To his surprise, though he didn't see a person through the trees, he saw one of the strange winged horses that had been pulling the carriages.

Harry hesitated. He wanted to find out what was happening, and if the person might be in danger from those horse things, but it would require leaving the safety of the path. He shook his head, and deliberately walked off it, headed towards the strange winged horse.

He had been correct; there was a person that he'd seen, surrounded by several of the black horses. From the back he could see dirty-blonde hair and…no shoes? He got closer. "Excuse me?"

The person turned around. It was Luna Lovegood, holding her schoolbag. "Hello, Harry Potter. What brings you out here?"

"You can call me Harry," he said, looking curiously at her. "And I just needed some time to think. I could probably ask the same about you."

She smiled. "I suppose I like time to think as well." She began fumbling for something in her bag. "But if you're asking about what I'm doing here," she said before Harry could respond, "I wanted to visit them."

"'Them'?"

She had found whatever it was, withdrawing a crumpled package from the bag. "The thestrals, of course." She unfolded the package; it contained several strips of raw steak. She tossed one to one of the strange horses, and it began to eat as a few more peered curiously around the trees, seeming to catch the scent of the meat.

"Thestrals? Is that what they're called?"

She nodded, smiling slightly. "Fascinating, aren't they? They're quite clever and loyal, but people fear them."

"Because they're different." He hadn't meant to say anything, and yet, the words felt right.

She nodded, smiling at him. "A shame, really. Perhaps if people were more open-minded, they might see them for what they really are."

"And that is?" Some part of him couldn't help but notice her silvery eyes were looking directly into his.

"Really lovely in their own unique way."

He sighed. "I don't know if many people will ever see them like that. They're too afraid to get close."

"Sad, isn't it?" She turned back to a different one of the horses, tossing it a few more of the scraps of meat before turning back to Harry. "But I think they're beautiful. What do you think?"

He looked over the thestrals. It was difficult to see them as anything but creepy at first, especially when they were eating the meat so eagerly. Their near-skeletal appearance and their bat-like wings certainly didn't make them reassuring. But he waited a few moments, watching them. And then he saw it; a smaller thestral, trotting next to its mother, had stumbled slightly. The mother bent its long neck, placing its head under its child to prop them up until it could regain its footing. Once it had, the mother nuzzled the child slightly, and the two of them continued walking towards the smell of the meat.

"Yeah. I think so too." She beamed at him. "Maybe they're all right, these thestrals."

"Them too," she said quietly, almost to herself.

"Hmm?"

"Do you know much about thestrals?" she asked. He wasn't sure if she'd heard him.

"No, we haven't had them in Care of Magical Creatures yet."

She nodded. "They're very social creatures. They travel in herds; even though they can defend themselves, they're stronger as a group than they are separately."

"Stronger as a group…" Harry muttered to himself.

"Oh, yes. They're usually led by a strong herd member who watches over them and keeps them safe. And if the herd is big enough and strong enough, they'd probably be able to be protected from anything." Luna smiled at him. "Anyway, what was it you were thinking about earlier?"

He smiled to himself. "Actually, Hermione, Ron and I were talking about starting a study group…"

* * *

Hermione had been pleased when Harry told her that he agreed with the idea of practicing defensive spells, and even more so when he allowed for the idea of more people joining beyond just the three of them and Luna. She had been slightly less enthusiastic to hear that he'd invited Luna, but shrugged it off and said that they would plan on meeting during the next Hogsmeade visit.

Quidditch practice went better than usual (Ron missed less saves than the previous time), and Harry felt a sense of eager curiosity when the time had come to train with Dante. While it was true that he'd felt somewhat worn out after Quidditch, the activity somehow made him feel more energetic.

He seriously considered asking for Dante's advice about the Defence Against the Dark Arts group, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. On the one hand, the man was probably well-practiced in defying authority, and might know a few tips that could help. On the other, however, he was still a professor, and Harry couldn't help but feel that, despite Hermione's reassurances that it wasn't against any school rules, their little side project would do better to remain known only by the participants. For now, at least.

"Well, here we are again. Last time we were working on bringing your speed and reactions up, and you did pretty good on that. But while we were training, your balance was a little shaky; that last hit almost knocked you to the ground. So that's where our main focus is going to be today. Balance."

"Am I still going to be doing stretches?" Harry was really hoping that hadn't come off as moaning about doing extra work.

"Yep. Unless I drop another pop quiz on you, from now on assume you'll have to do all the stretches at the start of training."

"…Even the lunges?" That one _had_ come off as moaning. Not that he'd made much effort to avoid it.

Dante grinned. "Yeah, even those. They're a pain, I know, but you know what they say about bitter medicine." He shrugged, and Harry made to put his wand away. "No, actually, keep that ready," he said, stopping the Gryffindor. "You weren't the only one that did their homework between last time and now. I finally figured out what the cleaning spell is."

Harry frowned. "They never taught you that one in school?"

"Home-schooled, remember? Anyway, it's called 'Scourgify', apparently. Clean off the space you're gonna be stretching in first, and then we can get going."

Harry did as instructed; it took him a couple of times to clean off an area that would be large enough, but eventually he had a decent-sized rectangular space of clean stone that he could stretch in. As he did, he found it much more comfortable without the dampness and staleness around him.

Still very chilly, however.

After he and Dante finished their stretches, the professor motioned to him. "Okay; for this part, you'll need your wand again. Actually, unless I say anything specific, it's probably a good idea to have it ready unless you're stretching."

Harry had no problem with that; even with the basilisk long dead, it felt wrong to be unarmed in this place. He drew his wand, waiting.

"Good. So, you remember that cleaning spell from before?" Harry nodded. "That's the spell you're gonna be using this time. We're doing some spring cleaning today."

"It's fall."

"Better late than never!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I take it that's not all there is to the exercise. Last time I was playing tag and running sprints both at once."

"And you'd be right. Since this exercise is about balance, I'm gonna make an obstacle course for you to navigate. Give me a second here…" He pulled the Devil Arm Cerberus from the folds of his coat, looking around the corridor. "Hmm…not much space here. Eh, I'll improvise." He knelt down, resting the ends of the three blue rods on the floor.

There was a feeling almost like a cold breeze without direction, and then an odd ice formation rose from the floor until it was about three feet from the ground. It almost seemed like a small maze made of solid ice; Harry found himself equal parts confused and curious. Those only grew as he tucked the blue rods away, only to pull out the nine-tailed whip. He stood up slowly, bringing the whip up in a manner that looked like it was lifting something; as he did, water seemed to rise right out of the stone itself, churning around and within the ice maze.

"Relax," said Dante as Harry made to back up. "This isn't normal water; it'll behave."

To Harry's amazement, it was as if the water outside of the maze was contained within invisible glass; it rose up higher and higher until it was level with the top of the ice, and though it rippled and sloshed, not a drop fell outside whatever invisible line had marked its border. He reached out to touch the side of the water; nothing stopped his fingertips, and the cold water made him withdraw his hand immediately, but the water itself did not move apart from the ripples that extended from where he'd touched. He stared at the drops of water on his fingers curiously; they seemed no different than any other type of water.

"So, if you look at the path I've made, there should be a place you can step up onto it." Harry turned his gaze from his hand to the structure; sure enough, there was a single step set into the ice. "You'll be walking across the top of the ice as part of today's training. I'll make sure you don't have to worry about breaking your neck or anything, but this'll still be a little dangerous."

"No kidding." Balancing on stone would have been difficult enough, but _ice_? How was he supposed to do this?

"Of course, you can always walk away." Harry turned to stare at the man. "It's fine. Go ahead. It's not any different from real life; running's always an option. You gonna leave?" Harry turned away from him, making a point of stepping up onto the ice with deliberation. His balance wobbled a bit as he got to the top, but he righted himself after taking a moment to concentrate. Dante smiled proudly. "Didn't think so. So, here's how it's gonna work. You walk around the little ice path and do everything you can to keep your balance. At the same time, you're gonna use your wand to clean this place; if you can see something and it's not spotless, clean it."

Aside from the balancing act he was maintaining, Harry was having difficulty seeing how this exercise was dangerous; all he had to do was go slowly. "And what will you be doing?"

The man grinned. "I'm gonna be throwing snowballs at you. They'll be soft, but if you get hit, you'll fall right into the water. You won't get injured, but it's gonna be _cold_ ; cold enough that you don't want to get knocked off at all. While I'm doing that, you use your wand to do that deflecting-thing to block them."

"Using Shield Charms?" Harry supplied.

"Yeah, those. And I don't want you just parking yourself in one place and keeping a shield up constantly; keep moving and keep cleaning, and only put up a shield when an attack is coming. You had some pretty good reaction times when we last trained; let's see if you can keep it up." He sat down cross-legged, setting the whip down beside him and pulling the three chained rods out once more. "Aaaaaand…start!"

Harry blinked, and looked at his instructor briefly. The man was not paying attention to him, however; he had somehow used the icy Devil Arm to form a pile of snow in front of him, and was very casually scooping a small amount of it into his hands. Harry turned his gaze back to the area in front of him. With no direction as to how he should start, he decided it would be easiest to start with the area closest to him and then work his way forward. " _Scourgify!_ " he said, pointing his wand at the section of floor just outside the pool surrounding the maze. A large spot of moss and dirt vanished, leaving the stone beneath much cleaner.

There was a soft crunching sound behind him. He turned to his left and ducked; a snowball whizzed right over him, where his head had just been moments before. The sudden movement caused his feet to slip slightly, and he only just caught his balance in the nick of time, holding his arms outward in a desperate attempt to keep from falling.

"Not too bad. But that's just the first of many; you'd better recover quicker if you don't want to be off-balance for the next one. And I wanna see you _block_ these; we'll work on dodging another time."

Harry frowned, slowly straightening himself up again. _Shield Charms…remember your Shield Charms_ , he told himself. He turned back to the task at hand, Scouring a section of stone adjacent to the previously cleaned one. He waited for a second snowball, but he waited five seconds and nothing had happened.

"We're not playing gargoyles," called Dante in a singsong voice. "If you've got time to stand, you've got time to move. So get it in gear and keep moving!"

Harry gritted his teeth, and Scoured another patch near the first. As instructed, he walked forward slowly, trying his best not to slip on the ice. He had Scoured four more spots before another snowball came at him; this one caught him off guard, and he felt himself go careening to the right, landing in the water with a loud splash. He clutched his wand tightly and tried desperately to stay afloat. Then he felt something flow up from underneath him, and he found himself being carried back onto the icy walkway by a wave of water that set him gently back on the path. His brief feeling of awe was quickly replaced by the needling cold of the water, and as the wave flowed off of him and back into its previous space, a massive shiver ran through him. _Cold!_

Dante shrugged, then stood up, picking up both Devil Arms. "Your balance was okay, but you need to pay more attention. Remember rule one."

"Be aw-w-ware of everything," stated Harry, his teeth chattering slightly.

"Exactly. I'll be moving around the area now, so start expecting an attack from any side. And I mean _any_ side; even above or below. I'll give you a sec to dry off, and then we'll get back to work."

Harry dried himself off quickly with his wand, one final shudder running through him before the freezing water was finally off him. He took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and then continued his slow progress forward, cleaning various spots as he went. This time, he was in the middle of opening his mouth to say the incantation for the Scouring Charm when he heard the soft crunch of snow. He whipped around, yelling " _Protego_!" The shield sprang up in front of him, the snowball striking the other side and splattering apart into powder. However, the speed of his turn caused his momentum to continue, and as he kept spinning, he lost his footing and began to fall face-first towards the ice platform.

He'd only fallen partway before he felt his movement cushioned by something fluid and very cold; the sudden stop made his glasses slide to the end of his nose. Another wave of water had caught him, pushing him back onto his feet. He pushed his glasses back up into their proper position and began to dry himself off again.

"Good reactions, but you overcommitted. It's okay to be aware of your surroundings without looking at all of it at once; if you're fighting more than one enemy, you probably won't have the luxury of seeing them all at the same time."

Harry gave a sharp exhale of irritation, but nodded with determination. _All right; let's see what you say about my next one._ He went back to his cleaning; nearly half a minute later, when there was a soft crunch from behind him and to his right, he didn't bother turning, yelling "Protego!" and pointing his wand in the direction of the noise. There was a tiny splat that told him the projectile had been stopped.

"Now _that's_ more like it! Knew you could do it." He didn't look in Dante's direction, but he was sure the man was smiling. He allowed himself a small grin of his own, but continued without pause; trust Dante to pelt him with more snowballs while in the middle of congratulating him. His instinct was rewarded when another snowy bullet came at him from the left; as before, he cast his Shield Charm without looking, continuing his steady walk forward.

Dante was as good as his word; the soft, tiny missiles did indeed fly at him from all angles. He only forgot to cast without looking twice more, but it was an easy lesson to learn when confronted with the icy water. Several times he pointed his wand over his shoulder to deflect the snowballs, and once or twice he even pointed it straight up to cast his Shield Charm into the air. He was usually able to react in time, but on several occasions he was caught by surprise and ended up falling into the icy water. Only right at the end did an attack come from below Harry, seemingly from the water itself; he was still trying to figure out how that one had happened, and it had knocked him right into the water with no chance to react.

This time the wave carried him not back onto the ice, but outside the maze completely, setting him onto the now clean stone; once it had, he saw his instructor putting the weapons away in the pockets of his coat. The water flowed away from him and seemed to evaporate altogether, while the ice shattered into miniscule pieces and vanished. He was shivering violently now, and his teeth were chattering so badly that he didn't know if he could properly dry himself off with his wand. Even so, he could at least appreciate his handiwork; only a few spots had not yet been cleaned, and most of them were quite a distance away from where his exercise had been taking place.

"Here." He felt a large coat being placed around him; he only needed to glimpse its red colour to realize that it was Dante's own. It didn't completely remove the biting cold, but it helped enough that he could at least speak the incantation to dry his robes off without stammering. It didn't feel half bad to wear, either. "It's not much, but it should help."

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

"You picked that one up pretty quick," Dante said as Harry finished drying off his robes. "It didn't take you five minutes, and you could defend yourself in stride. I'll have to make that one tougher the next time you do it."

"Next time?"

"Oh yeah. We're starting off slow so you can get an idea of what to work on, and then we amp up how it's done. Next time we're doing sparring again, so don't pull anything in practice. And you might wanna work out a bit before then, or you'll tire yourself out just as quick as last time." He frowned a bit before continuing. "Also, I noticed that you kept saying the name of the spell you're using. I do that sometimes, too, but is there any way you could skip it?"

Harry blinked. "Well…I could try to learn, but…it's supposed to be really difficult."

"Okay, good, then start studying that." He seemed not to have heard anything after the first bit of Harry's response. "You'll trim off a good second or two from your reaction, and every second counts when it's life or death; I'm sure I don't need to tell you that one."

Harry nodded, and made to head toward the exit, but froze as the professor cleared his throat behind him. "Yes?"

"…I'll need that back."

"Oh. Er, right." He took the coat off from his shoulders, and handed it back to the man, though with some reluctance. Something about wearing a long coat felt…comforting. "I can see why you like this thing."

The man chuckled. "Well, when you get outta school, maybe we'll hit up a tailor and get one in your size. Just make sure you don't get a red one; I've cornered the market when it comes to that color." He whirled the coat around, and suddenly he was once more wearing it.

Harry laughed as well, and they left the corridor, returning up the passageway to the bathroom above.

After they left, far below, a creature stirred slightly in its sleep. Its nose sniffed the air, wrinkling in disgust. The creature turned itself over to orient its face nearer to the brackish water flowing past it, and its narrow face relaxed. _**Better…**_ it thought as it dreamed of feasts and slaughter. _**Much better.**_

* * *

CHAPTER END

With August comes the end of summer for the year; hope you've all had a good one! I wanted to get as much important stuff in this chapter as I could because it sets up so much of the later plot, but I just didn't seem to have enough for a while, so it took a little longer. Still don't feel like I've included everything, but...*shrug*

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think, and see you next time!


	13. Chapter 13: Dawn of Hope

Chapter 13: Dawn of Hope

"So you wanna make sure that before you turn your back on it, it's down for good." Dante finished his drawing on the blackboard, setting the chalk down before turning around. "Now, any questions?"

"So is it better to keep attacking until it's in pieces?" a voice called from one of the middle rows. Dante glanced at the teen who had spoken, and then did a double-take. A pale face and slicked-back hair that was silver-blonde bordering on white…That was strange…

 _Did Vergil have a kid I don't know about?,_ he wondered to himself. "Well…it's not a bad plan. But when you're attacking, you're usually trading some defense off to do it. It could work, or your enemy could jump up and gut you while you're going in for another hit. You guys have wands, so keep your distance, keep your bearings, and keep your focus. Hopefully if you do all that, you keep your life." The bell rang. "Till next time!" He dropped into the chair behind his desk, pulling out a small object from within the drawers of the desk.

"Professor?" He looked up. It was the kid with the silver hair again. "Are you going to teach us to fight?"

"I'm teaching you how to defend yourselves _if_ you get in a fight. I'm not starting a street fighting league."

He could see it in the kid's eyes that he hadn't given the desired answer. "But how can we do that if we're not getting actual experience with a battle?"

"Baby steps. You gotta know control before you start fighting for real, or your first real fight might be your last. Be patient; we'll get there." The kid frowned, walking grumpily out the door.

Lady passed by him as she walked into his office. "Giving out too many 'C' grades?" she suggested. "Not very fair, given their instructor's skill."

"Laugh it up, Lady. I'm so good that I leave the 'A' grade in the dust. And besides, these guys use that weird system anyway."

She pulled a chair up to his desk. "Ah, right. The so-called 'O.W.L.s."

"Yeah. Their A is somewhere around the middle, and the highest is an 'O'. How does that even work?" he complained as gauntlets formed over his hands.

"Everyone's got their own system." She looked at his activity. "Speaking of, I'd like to make a bet with you."

"Over what?" he asked; half-curious, half-exasperated. "There's no demons here yet, and we don't have to compete for jobs." The clawed fingers of the gauntlets ran over the broken spear haft in his hands.

"Well, hear me out. Since I'm dealing with intelligent creatures that you don't have the patience for, and since I'm outside most of the day…"

"I'm not picking up one of your shifts."

She ignored him. "I figured that I could use a stiff drink every now and then."

"And what makes you think I've got alcohol on me? We're in a school; responsibility and all that."

"Oh, please. Half the teachers in this place keep some kind of booze in their rooms, and the other half go to the pub in the village. If they do, you _definitely_ do. If you lose, you owe me a bottle of whatever you've got on you."

He sighed. "Okay, but that's just the stakes. What's the wager?"

She gave a grim smile. "The type of demon we'll run across first." He glared at her. "We both know it's going to happen sooner or later. Just a little something to pass the time until then."

"Just because it _will_ happen doesn't mean we should ask for it. I don't want anything showing up in this castle; there's kids in here. You know what they say about calling down the thunder…"

Lady shrugged. "Hey, if you think you'll lose, you don't need to make excuses. Just say you're not interested."

There was a long pause, with the only sound being the clicking of the gauntlets.

"…I never said _that_ …" Dante mumbled.

She smiled. _Too easy._ "So, what's your guess?"

"Bugs or puppets."

"That's _two_ ," said Lady, looking at him with irritation.

"You have any idea how many categories we have to cover? Besides, you can pick two for yours."

"Fine. I'm guessing lizards or fish."

"You're on." The fingers of his gauntlets clicking made the only sound in the room for several moments. "…Seriously, though, fish?"

It was later on in the day that Lady, seemingly for her own amusement, dragged him to the Quidditch pitch (and really, what kind of name was _that_?) to watch the Gryffindor team practice.

"There's a point to this, I'm guessing," he murmured.

"Maybe if you see how he moves in the air, you can tailor your training to match how he moves on the ground," she suggested. "And really, you HAVE to see this."

"So, basically, you're doing this to annoy me."

"I can accomplish more than one mission at the same time," replied Lady smugly.

They finally arrived, and soon after, the players took off into the air. On brooms. What the hell. "You owe me for this."

"Not happening."

Admittedly, once he got over the fact they were on _brooms_ , it was interesting to see them dart around. Harry, in particular, looked as if he was born to fly, and he zipped around the field like a wayward bullet. Ron was apparently in front of the goals playing defense, and he seemed okay right up until he let the red ball three of them were throwing around past him into a hoop. Then he started letting a few more by. The Devil Hunter wasn't a coach or anything, but it was pretty easy to see that the kid was letting every mistake go straight to his head. Weird; he hadn't seemed like that at all in class. Actually… "Where's their coach?"

"They have a team captain," supplied Lady. "Girl with the dark hair."

"What, that's it?"

"You want to do it, ask Dumbledore."

"Pass." He watched them fly a little bit more. "I've already got my hands full easing them into the whole 'stand a chance against demons' thing. I don't even know how this sport works except for the goal thing."

She grinned evilly and began rattling off the rules, each one more ridiculous than the last. In fact, the only one he approved of was the two balls trying to knock people out of the air; it was good practice for dodging projectiles in real combat. And then it turned out they were made of _iron_ , of all things, which made him wonder if something about the whole wizarding culture was slightly masochistic at heart.

"And Harry's job is to catch a small, golden ball with wings that wins a hundred and fifty points and signals the end of the game."

Dante turned his head, very slowly, to look at Lady, who seemed like she was very entertained by the whole situation. "A hundred and fifty."

"Yes."

"And the goals are worth ten."

"Yes," she said, her smile growing wider. "And the game can't end until the gold one is caught."

 _Definitely masochistic._ "Okay, I give up. Call me when they discover bowling."

"But don't you want to try riding a broom?" she called after him, her voice wavering with suppressed laughter.

"Bye, Lady."

* * *

Wednesday was a day that Harry had been both looking forward to and dreading. On the one hand, he had been getting more and more exasperated with his ever-increasing homework and frustration with Umbridge and needed to let off some steam. On the other, he only realized as he was on his way to Myrtle's bathroom that he hadn't done anything to train his body physically. At all.

So, when they descended down to the Chamber of Secrets, he didn't say much (besides the word in Parseltongue needed to open the passage). They reached the bottom, he did his stretches in the much cleaner corridor, and then awaited Dante for their sparring to begin.

Dante grinned at Harry. "So. It's been two sessions since we sparred. If you've been practicing on your own and remember what you've learned, this might be interesting." The professor seemed to instantly recognize his twinge of guilt, but made no mention of it. "This time we're going to make it even simpler than last time. No swords; today it's hand-to-hand." He paused for a moment, tilting his head back and forth as he seemed to weigh a particular idea. "…Actually, I'll give you a handicap. You can use your wand." He held his hand out to the side and snapped his fingers. "Trickster!" As he said the word, there was a brief flash of yellow light around him.

Harry didn't dare wait for an invitation; he drew his wand immediately, holding it in front of him as if it were a small blade.

"Good initiative, but you'll have to work on your stances. That one's a little too-" In a split second his image blurred, and suddenly Harry found his own wand being pointed between his eyes. "Open," he finished. The white-haired man loosened his grip on the wand, offering the handle back to Harry. He took it, feeling both impressed and worried at this display of speed. Dante turned around, walking back to his original spot. "Now, the rules are a bit more complicated than last time. Survival isn't enough; I want you to land some hits this time. Defense will save your life, but you and I both know the fight isn't over unless the other side can't attack anymore." He stopped, turning back around to face Harry. "I'll even tailor this one to you and your crazy sport; every hit is worth ten points, physical or magical. If I take your wand, it's another ten points. And if you land a hit on me solid enough to knock me off balance, you win. How's that sound?" In response, Harry held his closed left hand out in front of him, while retracting his wand hand closer to his right side. "Heh…good answer." He beckoned with a hand. "C'mon!"

Harry sent a Stunning Spell at him, but the man had already moved, blurring to the left. He recovered quickly, casting another at where his instructor had ended up, but missed once more as the white-haired man shot in the other direction in a blur of motion. He moved to fire another spell, but the man had closed to point-blank range, and Harry abandoned the spell in favor of a hit to the face. Dante leaned out of the way, tapping Harry on the head with two fingers. Even though it was clearly minimal force, Harry stumbled back several feet before falling over. "Ten-nothing. If it helps, try aiming where I _will_ be instead of where I _am_." Harry got back to his feet, getting in a ready stance again. "Alright, round two. Let's go!"

This time, Harry was slightly more cautious. Taking his professor's advice, he cast a few spells in front of Dante's feet on occasion to stop his advance; it would buy him a precious second, but the white-haired man would always jump over the spell. He felt his temper begin to rise slightly. Especially because the man in the red coat _kept dodging_! He closed distance again, but Harry had been waiting for it this time; as soon as he came within striking distance, Harry's foot was coming up to meet Dante's stomach. The kick hit, but it was like striking a wall; no noticeable effect, and Harry's foot was smarting. Dante, however, was smiling. "Tied at tens, not bad. But don't forget…" His hand shot past Harry's still-extended leg and pushed him with insultingly tiny force, and the black-haired teen toppled over again. "You can't breathe easy after an attack, even if it hits. This isn't a board game; there's no turns or order to a fight."

"I _know_ ," Harry growled from behind gritted teeth.

"Good. Get up and prove it." He waited as Harry got up. "Round three. FIGHT!"

Harry took a different approach this time. Rather than trying to fend Dante off until he inevitably closed distance, Harry ran directly at him, casting as he did. The teen was slightly encouraged to see more than casual effort invested in dodging his spells, but it was small comfort five seconds later, when he found his own wand being pointed at him from Dante's hand. "Good plan, and the right one in this case. But you gotta pay attention; don't just attack blindly or you'll get wiped out by anything with a brain cell." He handed back Harry's wand. "Ten-twenty. Round four; GO!"

Harry ran forward again, but took the words to heart. Instead of attacking wildly, he fired three Stunning Spells in an arc from the floor to the ceiling. Dante leapt over the first two easily, but just narrowly missed the third as he continued to rise into the air. Harry pointed his wand, grinning eagerly. There was no way Dante could dodge this one; he was already suspended in mid air and no matter how he twisted or turned, he couldn't avoid getting hit by the spell. " _Stupefy!_ "

To his amazement, Dante smirked and bent his legs; in a split-second, a swirling red circle appeared in the air and the red-coated man pushed off it, shooting forward. The spell cut through empty air, and in his surprise, Harry only just noticed that there was something pressing against the back of his head. Looking at his hand, he saw that once again he was no longer the one holding his wand. He turned around, staring at the man offering him back his wand. "How did you do _that_?" he asked. He couldn't even be angry about it; it had just been so _cool_.

"It's called 'Air Hike'." He looked quite pleased with himself as Harry took his offered wand back. "It's a little trick I picked up when I was about your age. Whether it's an extra boost up or a way to change directions, that thing's MORE than paid for itself."

"I'll say." He hesitated, but couldn't help himself. "Are you going to teach me that?"

"You bet I will. You might need a Devil Arm first, but the sooner you pick it up, the better. The more mobility you have, the more options you have, and you want every option you can get in a fight. It might take a bit of training, but you'll be using that trick too, someday. Sorry to say, but that won't be today." He stared at Harry critically. "And that's another ten points to me."

"What?! You…you cheated!" Harry spluttered. As it turned out, he could get angry about it after all.

"I didn't use a weapon, and I never said that _I_ couldn't use magic. Besides, if you really wanna be a match for demons, you'll have to be ready for all sorts of nasty surprises; that technique is tame compared to some of the stuff they might blindside you with. And I don't want you to get gutted by a tiger that turned its face into a spear just because it wasn't fair."

Harry bit his lip. "…Demons are very strange, aren't they?"

"Now that's an understatement if I ever-" He broke off, looking down at Harry's fist, which had struck his gut. "Well, look at that. You _can_ be taught!"

"That makes one of us!" Harry shot back before he could stop himself. He backed up, worried that he had both dropped his defenses and been too rude.

Dante, however, gave a shout of laughter. "Now you're gettin' it! You're all right, Harry!" Harry felt a thrill of excitement, and they launched into the fray once more. He made two quick jabs at Dante's head and a third to his gut, but his offensive was brought to a crashing halt as the red-coated man swept Harry's legs out from under him.

Sadly, things did not improve from there. Harry did manage to get a few more hits in, but their score became incredibly one-sided rather quickly (though, at the very least, Harry was losing his wand less). By the time they were about to end, Harry was becoming both exhausted and sore as sweat began to roll off of him.

"Not givin' up yet, are ya kid?" teased the professor. He swiped a hand at the teen to swat his arm, but it retracted, and he dodged the retaliatory strike. "You're slowin' down; I dunno if you're gonna catch up."

Harry refused to acknowledge this. He knew full well he was rapidly running out of energy, but if he could just get one good hit in…He'd been waiting for a good chance, but one just hadn't presented itself yet. He jumped back to avoid a very lazy kick, and then he saw it; Dante followed his kick with a jab that reached just a little too far. Mustering the last of his strength, Harry grabbed Dante's arm and pulled himself forward into a leaping, two-footed kick that hit his instructor squarely in the chest.

It moved him roughly an inch.

Harry dropped to the floor, internally cursing both his failure and his pain. In a detached sort of way he knew that he should be getting up again, but his body didn't seem to want to respond. He could breathe and sweat, and that was about it.

But it wasn't _enough_! He needed to be stronger! _Needed_ to be faster! How else was he supposed to protect his friends from Voldemort? _I can't…quit…Not yet…_

"Well, you did your best. It was okay for…hm?" He looked over as Harry began to struggle to his feet once more. "Kid, I don't think you're gonna get another second wind. You blew through about three of those already."

Harry wasn't going to give up, no matter what Dante said. He brought himself to a kneel, then forced his protesting legs to extend. Slowly, shakily, he was standing again. "Even if…I can't…fight…" gasped Harry, his knees shaking and his legs wobbling, "Won't…give up…"

Dante shook his head, sighing, but there was a small smile on his face. "Can't say you're lacking spirit, at least. For that, anyway, we'll call this one a draw." He walked over to Harry, putting the teen's arm over his shoulder and helping to support him. "Let's get you back to your tower."

"…Thanks." There was no way he could make it back under his own power, so he was grateful for the assistance. They ascended up the pipe from the rush of water commanded by Dante, sliding back into the bathroom.

As they arrived, there was a gasp from above them. Harry looked up wearily, hoping desperately that it wasn't Moaning Myrtle. So, naturally, it was. "'Lo, Myrtle," he muttered tiredly.

"What have _you_ been doing?" she asked with wide eyes. "Was there another one of those creatures down there?"

"Renovating," said Dante as the tap slid closed behind them. "You must be the young lady Dumbledore mentioned." He extended a hand. "Dante, Professor of Defense."

She giggled, putting her hand into his. "Myrtle, resident ghost. Will you be visiting often?"

"I don't quit until a job's done. And this job'll probably take all year, so we should be seeing a lot of each other."

Myrtle blushed slightly. "…Lovely." Dante lifted Harry up to support him once more. "Professor?" He looked at her, and she looked at Harry shyly. "…Watch over him, will you?"

He nodded. "That's a promise." Dante smiled at her, and she smiled back, waving to them as they left.

"She seems fond of you," Harry muttered after they had reached the staircases.

"Could say the same about you. Do I wanna know how you're so well acquainted with a ghost that haunts a girl's bathroom?"

"Long story, explain later," replied Harry wearily.

Dante chuckled. "Fair enough."

Harry had regained just enough energy by the time they'd reached the Fat Lady that he could clamber through the portrait hole on his own. As he was about to, Dante left him with an assignment. "You'll want to start getting in better shape, or the next spar is going to be just as tough. Get some conditioning in; running, climbing stairs, swimming, whatever. And make sure you get some sleep."

"No arguments there."

"And because you could use some weapons practice, try using this." He withdrew an object from his coat, handing it to Harry. It looked like either a very short sword or a very long dagger. If he didn't know better, it almost looked like the broken-off head of a spear re-forged into a somewhat jagged blade. He took it tiredly, stumbling towards the portrait with the object in hand. "Till next time."

Harry bade him goodnight, and entered the common room, climbing straight up to his dormitory and falling onto his bed. He was asleep the instant his head touched the pillow.

* * *

Things began to settle into a routine soon enough. Harry found a rhythm to the lessons and their homework; it didn't make the work any easier to _do_ , but it did make it easier to organize his time, even if he was only finishing his assignments in time by the narrowest of margins. Harry briefly wondered one day if this was how Hermione had felt at the end of their third year, and felt a sudden swell of amazement that both she and Ron had even more on their plate than he did, yet were not far behind (in Ron's case) or even further along than he was (in Hermione's case).

Training had its own patterns too; Dante told him that they would be repeating the snowball and guitar exercises for a few weeks until Harry got the hang of them, after which they would switch to new tasks. Harry also found a couple spare hours per day to practice using the training weapon by sneaking into the room with the mirrors that Dante had discovered.

One thing kept bothering him, however. Sirius still had yet to reply to Harry's letter. Even with his being made to stay indoors, Harry had not yet waited so long for a reply from his godfather before. Was the work for the Order keeping him busy, or was he resentful over remaining hidden away at Grimmauld Place?

With all this, the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend was upon them before Harry had even realized it. Along the way to the village, he found from Hermione that they would _not_ be meeting at the Three Broomsticks, much to his surprise. They were instead going to the Hog's Head, the other pub in Hogsmeade. Additionally, when he asked how many people would be coming, the only answer he received was "a couple of people". He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this…

Entering the bar did nothing to help matters. It was much quieter and dirtier inside, and the whole place seemed just a bit _dodgy_. Other than the barman looking somewhat familiar, Harry had no real fuss about the bar's inhabitants.

…Not until the crowd of Hogwarts students filed in the door.

"…A couple of people, hm?" he muttered in Hermione's direction. To be honest, he would have been feeling intimidated if he weren't so reluctantly amused.

"Well, the more the better!" she responded cheerfully. Once the chatter had died down some (and several students ordered butterbeers), she cleared her throat. Hermione began to speak to them, haltingly and with many "ers" at first, but once she hit her stride she was doing quite well. Harry was only just thinking that it would be a huge relief if she did all the talking when she forced herself to say Voldemort's name. After a few moments in which everyone had collected themselves, the Hufflepuff named Smith demanded proof that Voldemort was back, looking pointedly at Harry.

And that was when it had all fallen into place. Whether by accident or by design, these people were largely here because they wanted him to tell what happened during the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. He felt cornered, angry, and resentful about this…and yet, strangely defiant. "You want proof? Ask Dumbledore. Because if you can't trust him, there's not many people you can trust."

"Dumbledore didn't tell us what happened," Smith went on stubbornly. "All he said was that You-Know-Who had killed Cedric and you brought his body back."

"And that's what happened." He glared at Smith, daring him to continue.

He took the bait without hesitation. "But he didn't give us any _detail_! He didn't say how Cedric was killed, or what happened to you, and I think we'd all like to know-"

"So you're saying you want to know what it looks like to see Voldemort murder one of your friends, do you?" Harry glared at the boy, furious and triumphant at once. Smith muttered a few disconnected words before quailing under the glares from his Housemates. "I liked Cedric. He was a good man, and I can't imagine what it was like for those of you in his House. But this is neither the time nor the place to talk about him. So if that's why you're here, you wasted your time. Leave."

He didn't dare look at Cho, and he was certain that his words would have caused at least a couple to exit the bar, but was surprised when no one did. Hermione, as if eager to calm his temper, pressed on hurriedly, going over a few concerns for the group. Once she had, Harry had to answer several different questions; as if having his "qualifications" tested, but he worried that his answers were giving everyone a falsely high opinion of him. "Look," he said before Neville could jump in once more. "I won't deny that I've done a few things that most of you haven't. But you've got to understand something. When it comes down to it, it doesn't matter how impressive it is what you can do. The only thing that matters is if you can stay alive long enough. If you can remember that, we might be able to learn a lot."

"Are you telling us it doesn't matter if we win a fight, even if we're attacked?" Smith asked, disbelieving.

Harry gave him a fierce grin. "Sometimes, you can die even as you win. And I'd rather that no one died." As he'd hoped, Smith backed down at that, looking a little green. No one spoke for a few moments, but soon, talk resumed once more.

Then they reached the part that Harry himself had been mulling over ever since he'd shut Smith up.

Where would they meet?

Maybe if Harry could "borrow" that eyeball from Dante, he might be able to reveal some sort of secret room or passageway…

* * *

CHAPTER END

Just in the nick of time, but here it is! It's a bit shorter than I would have liked, but it felt like the proper place to split the chapters. Hope you're all doing well, and take care!


	14. Chapter 14: Fireside Chats

Chapter 14: Fireside Chats

"Not gonna happen."

Harry ducked out of the way of a bat covered with crackling purple electricity. "It's just for a few hours." They were once again going through their training regimen in the antechamber for the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry was once more struggling to hit Dante. This time, not only was he moving out of the way of Harry's jets of water, but he was also using a strange technique to reflect the water. Much to Harry's disappointment, this meant that he was falling behind in score rapidly, just like last time.

Dante strummed the guitar, building up a tiny charge. "That's the same thing I said before taking a walk one night to hunt down a single demon. Long story short, a train crashed, I owed another thirty-thousand, Lady laughed at me, and the demon only barely died."

The absurdity of this statement was so astronomical that Harry let it fly right by him, along with another three bats. "Just one room. Let me borrow the eye to find _one_ room or corridor and I'll give it right back."

"And why do you need to find a room that fits thirty people that badly?" Dante asked pointedly.

Harry was quiet for a moment as he tried and failed to hit Dante with a jet of water. "…Class project."

"So why do I get the feeling you're not big on letting other teachers know you're doing this project?" He swung his arm in a circular motion, a bubble of force forming around him briefly to deflect two water streams. "Including yours truly."

"Because…I don't want…" He stopped to think for a moment, under cover of avoiding more of Dante's electric attacks. "…I don't want anyone stealing the credit, that's all!"

"…Uh-huh. Sure. See, I'd buy that…if you had bushy brown hair, no glasses, and had a name that rhymed with Wer-mione." He rolled his eyes; an action that left him unable to avoid a blast of water directly to the face a moment later. An eyebrow twitched, but he showed no other sign that might have hinted at pain. "…Anyway. If you don't wanna talk about it, that's your business. Just make sure you don't forget to train when you've got time."

Harry snorted, then gasped as a bat caught him in the back. Once he regained his breath, he gave a dry chuckle. "…I don't think that should be a problem."

"Just be careful. With that little 'decree' our friend just spit out yesterday, clubs, teams, focus groups, drinking buddies and rock bands apparently aren't legal any more."

"I'll be careful." It was somewhat helpful to his point that he deflected three bats behind him with a Shield Charm, jumped over another, and landed a solid hit on Dante's right hand.

* * *

"So, Professor Dante, how are your classes going?"

The man chuckled. "C'mon, Al, just Dante. You keep callin' me that, and I'm in danger of sounding responsible." He shifted in his seat, looking around Dumbledore's office distractedly. "And they're going fine. Now that everyone's got a basic handle on stuff, I'll start stepping up the difficulty."

"Naturally. And your…investigation?"

"Harry and I solved one. It was right about where the list predicted; the actual puzzle involved bouncing light off a bunch of mirrors. Took a while, but…" He held out the small bottle, the azure flames dancing within.

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "My word…it was truly so simple?"

"You'd never have found it without the…uh…key I used. Speaking of which, how'd you know a general area if you couldn't access it?"

"Magic leaves its traces." The reply was as cryptic as it was unhelpful.

"Doesn't it just…" Dante muttered, sensing the slow, steady flow of demonic power coursing through his body. It was like breathing or feeling your heartbeat, in a way; invisible until you look for it, and when you did, even the smallest change stood out sharply. "…Anyway, Harry's been takin' to training pretty well. But that brings me to something I've been wanting to talk to you about for a while." He stared at Dumbledore. "You haven't heard about any demons around here, have you?"

The Headmaster shook his head. "Had there been any sighting or evidence as such, I would not have rested until it was removed from our grounds for good."

"Hmm. Well…you're not gonna like this, but…"

* * *

"Nowhere!"

Harry and Ron, who had been studiously copying…or, rather…"double-checking" each other's homework assignments, jumped slightly. They both turned towards the entrance to Gryffindor Tower and gaped as Hermione managed to fit her way through the portrait hole with a truly staggering amount of books in her arms. She strode over to the table between them and, with a look of the utmost impatience, dropped the stack of books straight onto it, squashing their essays flat under the weight. "Nowhere!" she snapped, her face flush with exertion.

Ron blinked owlishly. "Erm…no, Hermione. Gryffindor Tower." He pointed both hands around them for effect.

She ignored him. "Nowhere, in the entire library, is there _anything_ about a spell that lets someone survive a fatal wound automatically! I've been through the books about spells twice, and there's nothing!"

Ron gave Harry a confused look. "Bad luck; that'll make Care of Magical Creatures a chore."

"I've also been through every book about magical creatures outside of the Restricted Section, and none of them talk about demons from another world at all! The closest I could find were passing mentions in these books, and they could mean anything." She waved an irritable hand at the books she'd brought.

Harry and Ron each took one of the many books, opening them to pages that Hermione had marked. " 'Dark creatures, whose origin has had fanciful speculation since the beginning of wizarding society'…" Harry read aloud, "…'than the beings of shadows, which we are taught to fear as children'…'the kappa, like the rest of its dark brethren, thus has a turbulent relationship with humans'…" Harry looked up at Hermione in amazement. "Blimey, Hermione, how long have you been working on this?"

" _Weeks!_ " said Hermione, her voice rising slightly. "Ever since he mentioned how old they were!"

"You've been studying this, and preparing for O.W.L.s, and making elf clothes, and helping our…erm…study group?" Ron asked, amazed. "When do you sleep?"

"I've been meaning to finish it off so I could turn it in," she continued, not answering Ron's question, "but I can't find enough to write a full essay on, and every time I try to ask Professor Dante, he says it's 'unlike me to ask others for answers'!" She set her shoulders, then turned to the two of them, who had failed to hide their smirks. " _What_?"

Ron coughed. "Erm…well…you see, the thing is-"

"Hey! This thing on?"

Harry nearly leapt up in his seat; he'd feel shocked if he wasn't so welcoming of a distraction. The terse voice was coming directly from the fireplace. He tossed his books aside in a hurry. "Siri-?"

But it was not Sirius's head in the fire. It was Nero's. "Sorry, but no. You wanna get closer already? This is hell on the knees."

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, motioning them closer to the fire (Hermione didn't seem to have noticed that she'd spilled ink over her front). Once they'd gathered around, he looked at the young man's head. "What are you doing here?"

"Answering a letter. It seemed to have been delivered by mistake." He gave Harry a very pointed look. "And, hypothetically speaking, I'm sure the recipient would want to tell you hello." Harry gave a grin and nodded, and Nero continued. "Now, what's this about you trying to form an army to take over the Ministry?"

"What?!" Harry yelled. Ron burst out laughing, and Hermione's hands flew to her mouth. "How did you-?"

"Oh, it's true? Sheesh, you shoulda said so; we would've chipped in, too."

"No, it's…" Harry shook his head vigorously as Ron controlled himself. "We're not forming an anti-Ministry army!"

"Oh." There was a pause. "So…just a regular army? I've got some pointers."

Harry let out a long sigh, and glared at Ron, who was laughing again. "What did you hear, and who from?"

"Well, you weren't very subtle, were you? Meeting in a seedy bar-"

"Pub!" insisted a voice somewhere behind Nero.

"Ugh, fine. You and a bunch of other kids dropped in on a seedy _pub_ and started blabbing about training in combat right under a teacher's nose, and then a bunch of 'we're defying the Ministry' giggling. I'm surprised what's-her-face didn't overhear you herself."

"And who did you hear from?" Harry asked. He then jabbed Ron hard in the sides, and Ron's laughs trailed off into hiccups.

"The Dung guy. So, what am I telling our mutual friend? You still going through with it, or what?"

"Yes."

He grinned. "That's the spirit. You'll need a place to train, a plan on how to train, a schedule, and weapons. Or…wands, I guess, so you're covered on that." He turned back as if listening to something for a few moments, then sighed and refocused on the three in the Gryffindor common room. "I… _imagine_ that your godfather would be advising you to try the secret passage behind the big mirror on fourth floor."

"Can't," Harry said, shaking his head. "It's blocked; Fred and George told me."

"…Well, shit, I'm outta options."

"Nero!" snapped Hermione, scandalized.

"Oops. I mean…darn." He scowled, and then looked backwards. "Look, do _you_ want to switch and do this?" he growled, his voice slightly muffled. "Never mind, forget it, would defeat the whole purpose. No, don't- Hey, knock that off!" His head seemed to be wiggling back and forth; Harry guessed that he was probably having a shoving match with Sirius. "I've kicked five kinds of ass with my arm in a sling, you think I can't win a shoving match with my head stuck?!" Wow; spot on, it seemed.

"OI!" Ron yelled, and Nero's head stopped wiggling. "We can find a place to train if you can't think of one, but you said you had other tips?"

"Ah. Right." His head rotated back around to look at them properly. "Wherever you train, have plenty of space. Harry, you probably know how to start off a workout by now, so keep that in mind, too. Start out slow and work your way to the more damaging stuff; you don't want to break a sword…uh, _wand_ , on the first day. And lastly, this is very important. Never, under any circumstances-" He broke off immediately.

This was quite understandable, as the top of his hair had been grabbed by a hand. A very stubby, short-fingered hand wearing ugly old rings.

"Nero!" Hermione yelled.

"Let go, asshole!" he snapped. He twisted his head around, his long hair allowing him to turn just enough to face the arm attached to the hand in question. He bared his teeth and bit down hard into the arm. There was a momentary shriek and the hand released him, withdrawing upwards. He spat disgustedly, and then turned back to them. "Now where was I?" he asked calmly, as if nothing had happened. "…Right. Never, under any circumstances, should you underestimate the importance of learning the basics. My…instructor once taught me that 'fundamentals are the foundations of a formidable fighter'. Gotta crawl before you walk, walk before you run, run before you defy gravity…that kind of thing. Got it?" They nodded wordlessly, still in shock at what had just occurred. "Good. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna get back to work before someone else grabs my head. Kyrie says hi, and to make sure you take care of yourselves." And with a slight pop, his head was gone.

* * *

CHAPTER END

...Yeah, this one's a lot shorter. Mostly because I wanted to get two chapters out for Halloween and had a lot of busy things that kept interfering.

...But if it's any consolation, the next chapter's much longer! So get ready to see it when I post it.

Which is now. ;-p


	15. Mission 02: The Lost Light

**Mission 2: The Lost Light**

 _Extinguish the light of doom!_

 _MISSION START_

"Hit me."

One of Nero's eyes twitched. "I really should, with how far you're pushing your luck…"

"I mean it. Hit me."

The white-haired swordsman gave a deep sigh, handing yet another card to Sirius. His irritation only deepened when he flipped it over. "Of course it is. Why not?"

The other man grinned. "By my count, that's a perfect twenty one."

"No way. There is NO way you didn't cheat somehow."

"Beginner's luck, I suppose."

Nero's eyes roved over the cards in front of him: his own two tens were respectable, but after two aces for Sirius had been split, he'd proceeded to get a three, a five, and a two for one hand, and the other had twins of twos and threes. "No, beginner's luck is getting fifteen or better right outta the gate once or twice. This is almost getting insulting."

"Hey, maybe you're just bad at cards."

"…And that IS insulting." He scowled at the other man. "One more round."

"Not in much of a position to bargain…not after you've lost all your credit."

"Dishes for a month against cooking. Take it or leave it."

"…Deal."

"And keep your hands on the table this time!"

Kyrie smiled as she watched the two. Apart from Nero's little..."adventure" with the fireplace, it had been another slow day; only a single customer in the morning, and a single in the afternoon. As night rolled around, Nero had taken it upon himself to teach Sirius a few card games, but had somehow managed to lose four times in a row; something unheard of for him.

"Yes! I knew it!"

Sirius shrugged. "My luck ran out, that's all."

Nero rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure. Speaking of, that reminds me. Do you guys have rules about hustling a casino? You could break the bank on roulette alone…"

"It would be drawing too much attention to us," he said pointedly. "Would _you_ join the Olympics to sweep the prize money?"

"We'd never pass the blood test…but you got a point, I guess. Still, do you have actual rules, or just-"

There was a knock on the door. "I'll get it!" Sirius called out eagerly, almost jogging to the door. He'd only just opened it when he froze in shock. There was a Muggle policeman on the other side. "…Hello there."

The officer gave a weak smile. "Relax, nobody here is in trouble. Actually…I came here because I might need your help in an ongoing investigation. May I come in?" Sirius motioned him in the door, and he took a seat at the bar. "Don't suppose you've got anything with a bite to it?"

"Aren't you on duty?" Nero muttered.

"Heh…no, strictly speaking. I came here right after my shift ended; but you might have a point regardless. Best keep my wits about me so I can give you the full picture."

"Well, why don't you tell us what the problem is, Officer…?" Kyrie offered.

"Jones, ma'am. Truth be told…there's a case that's got my department at its wit's end. Several people have gone missing in the past three weeks. It's been four so far; two men and two women. All the disappearances are within five kilometers of that golf club over on Bath, between the hours of 9 p.m. and 4 a.m., and never on the same day. There've been no demands, no clues, and almost no lead to follow. We've scoured the crime scenes from top to bottom several times, but it's as if they simply…vanished. I was about to give up hope, and then…"

"You thought of us," Sirius finished for him.

"This is all unofficial, of course. Our dispatcher had a cutting of the ad you ran in the paper; thought it was the best joke she'd seen in ages. I'd dismissed you as easily as she had at first, but…I really don't have anywhere else to turn. I couldn't bear to just wait for the next report to come in…"

"Back up a bit," Nero cut in. "You said 'almost' no leads, right? What's the 'almost' lead?"

"A single eyewitness report. She said that she was walking with a friend on Knowl Hill Common when there seemed to be an odd red light bobbing in the distance. Her friend reported feeling drawn to that light, and started running towards it. She tried to follow, but a thick fog started settling in, and she lost sight of him. By the time the fog had cleared, he was nowhere to be found."

"Funny that fog showing up so suddenly," noted Sirius. "Especially right before the disappearance."

Officer Jones shrugged. "That golf course has had a history of fog setting in suddenly at night. But it's mostly just caused mild disorientation before; no one's actually gone missing until recently."

"Have no fear," Kyrie assured him. "We'll take the case."

"You will?" His weariness seemed to ease a bit. "That's the best news I've heard all week."

She walked behind the bar, picking up her crossbow and slinging it to her back. As she walked to the door, Nero walked behind the bar as well, picking up what looked like a large cello case and strapping it to his back. "We'll check into it; don't wait up for us."

Sirius looked disappointed. "What?! I haven't had anything to do in ages! Can't I go on this one?"

"You got to go on the last one," reminded Nero. "Someone needs to watch the place. Why don't you entertain our guest?"

"But I-" His sentence was cut off as the door closed behind the two. He sighed, turning to Jones. "So, er…you like card games?"

* * *

Once the two were well away from the town and in the countryside, Nero took the cello case off his back and opened it, revealing Red Queen inside. His arms shifted, and he used the right one to absorb the case, placing the sword on his back. "So what do you think it is?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, with no trace of the possible victims, could they have just been kidnapped?"

Nero shrugged. "I dunno why they'd go to all the trouble and not ask for anything if that was the case. We'll find out soon enough, I suppose."

Once they reached the location of the golf course, the two looked around. The lightly rolling hills seemed perfectly normal, and apart from the cloudy night sky, the evening weather seemed quite pleasant. "Not the right conditions for fog," the swordsman muttered. "But let's see if that means anything."

They waited for several minutes. After a time, a delicate mist began to form around them. Nero's eyes narrowed. "I knew it. Whatever it is, it should be close by." They walked a bit deeper into the course, looking around for any sign of a creature that might be responsible. After a good twenty minutes, however, they had found none, and the only thing to note about the mist was its continued existence. "…This is weird. If it's a trap, why hasn't it been sprung yet?"

Kyrie considered the matter, falling silent for a few moments. Then, finally, she suggested "Maybe it's waiting for us to split up."

Nero stopped dead in his tracks, and she almost ran into him. "It is?"

"It would fit. A single creature hunting for prey would usually try to get each one alone so that it would be an easier fight. And Officer Jones said that each missing person disappeared on a different day. Maybe it's small enough that it only needs to catch one person every few days to feed itself. If we're going to catch it…" She trailed off, knowing what his answer would be.

"Not a chance in hell."

She wasn't disappointed. Still, she made her case. "It's our best lead so far, and without seeing whatever is responsible, we can't do anything about it. Would you rather we just wait and let more people vanish in the meantime?"

He fidgeted anxiously. "…I don't want to use you as bait."

"You won't be. We'll both be the hunter and the bait at the same time. We won't have to go very far, but we need to draw the creature out."

"Or demon."

"Or demon," she allowed. "Nero…I've always trusted you to protect me if I needed it. Will you trust me to protect you now?"

He looked into her eyes. Though it didn't show on his face, she could tell that it was this more than anything that gave him fear. "…I do."

She nodded resolutely. "We'll walk opposite to each other for five minutes, and then turn directly around and come back. That should be just enough to keep us in range of each other."

He took her hand, squeezing it lightly. "Be careful, okay?"

"I promise." She leant up, kissing him on the cheek. They gave a final smile to each other, and then turned around, walking slowly and deliberately in different directions.

As Kyrie walked, she noticed that the mist was rapidly becoming fog, and visibility dropped so drastically that after merely two minutes she was having difficulty seeing more than five feet away from her. _It seems I was right, though it doesn't give me any satisfaction,_ she thought to herself. _I expect I'll be getting company very soon._ A second after she had this thought, she heard footsteps coming toward her. Oddly, they didn't sound like footsteps would have on grassy earth; rather, they sounded as if whoever was making them was walking on glass. She stopped, holding her crossbow ready to fire.

A humanoid shadow appeared a short distance in front of her. "Wow, not exactly the warmest greeting," said a cheerful voice. "But I'll take it!" The shadow coalesced into a person that stepped out of the fog in front of her. They were wearing a hooded black cloak, and from what little she could see of the person's face, a smile. "Hi there!"

She frowned. "Mar?"

"Sorry, wrong answer, but thanks for playing!" The person threw their hood backwards. It was…a person, at least. And from what she could guess, a male with extremely soft facial features. "On to our next game; Twenty Questions! I'm your host, Adellfionus. Our first contestant is Kyrie."

She lowered the crossbow. "Who are you? And how do you know my name?"

The man shrugged. "Like I said, I'm Adellfionus. I'm…let's say a 'coworker' of Mar's. And I know your name the same way he does. Now it's my turn." He cleared his throat. "Are you an animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

Kyrie was a patient person, but even she was getting rapidly irritated with the stranger. "I'm a human. Are you responsible for the demon here?"

His grin changed rapidly to a frown, and just as quickly back to a sly smile. "Me? Now why would I do that? I'd think it would be more likely that you brought it with you when you traveled between universes." He chuckled at her wide-eyed expression. "Come now, you didn't think you could cavort about the multiverse without consequences, did you? Or maybe I'm wrong, and neither one of us is responsible. Maybe there's a third party that's to blame. Or a fourth. Now…it's my turn. Do you know what happens when a soul is broken?"

She was quiet for a few moments. "I don't know what-"

"That's all right; it's so rarely known that not many worlds are aware. You see, the body can be broken, and the results are obvious; I don't need to tell you, I'm sure. The spirit can be broken, too; the results are less obvious, but I'm sure you're well aware of what they are, as well. But the soul…now that's a tough one, isn't it? Because a soul's not supposed to be broken. Unlike the body and the spirit, a soul isn't made of multiple parts that can be categorized, much less divided. So tell me: when a soul, a thing that is not meant to be broken, _is_ , what happens to it?"

She stared at the man. "…What happens?"

He was quiet for a moment, and then chuckled. "Hey, I'm not a fortune cookie. Figure the answer out yourself. And when you do, it might be a good idea to share." He shrugged. "Or don't. Your choice."

Kyrie's eyes narrowed at him. "What do you want?"

"Oh, that's easy. I want to be entertained. Succeed or fail, advance or retreat, live or die…it doesn't matter. Just make it interesting." He moved backwards, melting into the darkness with his laughter ringing around her.

The songstress clenched her fists, secured her crossbow in a ready position once more, and continued on.

* * *

Nero, meanwhile, had been wandering through the fog with little to report. _They've always gotta be mysterious and shadowy; it'd be nice if we could get a few more dumb demons. At least make things straightforward._

He continued on for several minutes, irritation building as he did. A few minutes later, he stopped. There was a soft squashing sound some distance ahead of him. He raised Blue Rose, advancing cautiously. The squashing noise slowed, and then seemed to stop. He thought he saw a red light bouncing in the distance for a few brief moments, before it winked out and left him in the dark fog again. _Must be getting close; that sounds like what the officer said about the demon we're looking for._ He sped up slightly, his eyes and ears scanning the area for any signs of trouble.

After another minute of walking, he saw a familiar figure in the distance. He was tough to make out, but the grey cloak was unmistakeable. "Mar…" He strode forward, pointing his gun right at the man's hooded face. Just as he got close, Mar raised his right hand, palm up. Nero stopped, readying himself. The cloaked man snapped his fingers, and then the air next to him began to shimmer and stretch. A moment later, a large, golden oval opened, shedding light onto Nero's face.

His gun arm slackened, and his eyes widened. "That's…"

* * *

Kyrie stepped forward slowly, every now and then turning to check behind her and to her sides. So far nothing had appeared, but that didn't mean that nothing would; they had a demon to find, after all. Not to mention, there were the words of that strange man that were bothering her.

 _Do you know what happens when a soul is broken?_

Could it have been a threat? A warning? Or maybe a lie just to confuse her? He had said he only desired entertainment, but even that could have been a lie. Much like Mar, there were too many questions and not enough answers. And yet…

She gripped her weapon tighter. _And yet…perhaps those answers might cause even more problems. We still don't know what their ultimate goal is, especially if they're supposed to be working together. Maybe if-_

There was a sudden flash of red light ahead of her. She quickened her pace slightly, moving ahead rapidly for several moments before she saw something that made her slow down. Now she was gazing at the object in wonder, in longing, her crossbow lowering to point at the ground. _That's…Fortuna…_

A shimmering portal was in the air, the edges slightly rolling, like waves. She could see the ruins of the old Order HQ, Fortuna Castle…even the rebuilt city, the opera house sitting defiantly in the shadow of the destroyed Hell Gate. Kyrie stepped slowly towards the portal, reaching out her hand in awe.

She stopped suddenly, her fingertips inches from the portal. Something felt…strange. This was very convenient…a portal to Fortuna in the middle of a golf course that she just happened to find?

The fog congealed slightly around her. She felt a slight strain of her mind, but shook it away. Amazing things could happen by coincidence; unlikely, yes, but possible. And besides, who knew how long this portal would be functional? She made to touch it.

* * *

Nero walked forwards to examine the portal. It was all there; the castle, the forest, the still-wrecked Hell Gate…He could almost hear birds from the other side. The Holy Knight turned to Mar. "Is this real?" Mar nodded. Nero turned to the portal. _Maybe if I reach the Devil Bringer through…actually, no, bad idea. When I tried that on one of these before, it sucked us into Ichigo's world. Maybe get a few more clues._ "Can I take Kyrie through, too?" Mar nodded once more. Nero stepped close to the portal. _Maybe…maybe testing it out wouldn't be such a bad idea…_

* * *

Kyrie retracted her hand quickly. _Actually, how long WOULD this portal be active? There's no source, and nothing to sustain it. Why is it just here?_

The fog congealed around her a little further. Her mind felt a little fuzzy; this time, she caught it. _Something…something's not right about this. It's too easy. And even if it was true…_ She thought of Dante, and of Lady. Their friends that were hundreds of miles away, trying their best to protect people that several weeks ago they'd never met or imagined. And here she was, actually considering just jumping through a portal, when it would leave everyone behind. "No," she said, shaking her head. " _No_ ," she repeated, and the force of her refusal actually seemed to push some of the fog away. "I'm not so selfish and heartless to put myself before all of them. Either all of us leave, or we stay together. No matter how much I miss my home, I won't turn my back on my family." She set her jaw, deliberately walking past the portal.

Unseen by the young woman, it darkened to a shade of red, twisting and warping until, for the briefest of moments, it resembled a crimson eye. Then it shrunk into nothingness.

* * *

Nero was reaching out to touch the portal with his left hand when something made him stop. He saw the rings on his left hand; the Order's signet ring, and the one with a blue rose on it. _Kyrie…if something goes wrong, then Kyrie will be trapped._

The fog swirled around him. He heard whispers in his head, but they were clearly trying to trick him. And besides, the portal would probably stay open for a while. He could go through, look around, and then come back. It was no problem.

…Except there was, wasn't there? Because it could close after he was through. And if one of them was home but left the rest behind…that just wouldn't do.

The fog thickened, and the whispers grew more incessant. But he didn't need to hear them. If there was one portal, there would be others. Kyrie and the others could find a different one. Maybe…actually, she shouldn't be far away. He could get her through and…

…No. She didn't need to be coddled or shoved aside when things looked less than peaceful. She was getting stronger, same as him. And they'd find their way home together, dragging those two maniacs they called friends behind them.

Nero glared at Mar. "I don't know what you're trying to pull…but you can take that portal and use it to go blow yourself." The man said nothing, still holding his arm out and the portal still hovering in the air. "…What, nothing to say to that? Usually you don't…shut up…" Nero's scowl deepened, and he holstered Blue Rose. He took a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs. "BOO!"

The hood rose, and a single red light glowed underneath. Nero felt some uncertainty creep into his mind…before he snarled and grabbed Red Queen's handle, slashing it down in a blur. Several things happened at once. The hooded figure swooped backwards with a rasping, inhaling grunt; there was a rattling sound as the red light bounced back and forth; and both Ascalon's and Karkinos's voices were suddenly shouting in Nero's head.

 _SIR NERO! HEED MY WORDS AND BE WARNED! - HEY! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'SE SUPPOSED TO BE THE HUNTER; DON'T WALK INTO THIS TRAP!_

Nero clutched his head. _Easy, EASY! I can hear you!_

 _About time; we've been shouting all this while!_

Mar came to an abrupt halt, and the hood fell backwards. But instead of a person's face being underneath, there was only a lantern with a blood-red light contained inside it, held aloft by what looked like a wisp of smoke.

With a flash of light, Ascalon appeared in Nero's arms as they shifted, and he jabbed the spear forward. But the weapon met no resistance as it shot into the cloak; it pushed the outfit backwards until it fluttered to the ground. The being underneath seemed to be made of the same, smoky material that was also holding the lantern. The lantern in question shook angrily, and the light within formed into an eye with a slitted pupil. _Well, looks like we found our demon._

Several crossbow bolts sailed through the mass of smoke, and Nero heard rapid footsteps approaching. "Nero!" came Kyrie's voice.

"Whatever it is, we've found it. Let's take it out!" Ascalon disappeared as he drew his pistol, firing it at the creature. But much like Kyrie's arrows, they simply passed through with no seemingly ill effect. "So much for the direct approach."

There was a howling sound, and the lantern rattled violently. With a sudden jerk, a ball of fire sped at Nero's head. In a flash, Ascalon was in front of him, the fireball deflecting off of the shield into the ground some distance away. It exploded with noticeable force, lighting a patch of the ground on fire. "If only Sirius could call in water!" Kyrie remarked.

"Well, he can try it next time. Try-" But before he could finish his request, the creature shimmered and disappeared from view, lantern and all. Nero whirled around, looking every direction for a sign. After a moment, he saw it; once again, a red light bouncing in the distance. This time, it seemed to be making its way away from him. He made to follow.

 _Sir Nero, wait! It's trying to draw you in again! Don't listen…_ _to_ _…_ _it_ _…_

Her voice began to fade from Nero's head, but he held onto her words. "Let's let it come to us. It's been trying to mislead us until now; but it can't drag us into a trap when we hold our ground."

Kyrie nodded, looking around. She saw a red light bobbing around them and followed it with her aim, but did not pursue.

With a growl, the creature appeared some distance in front of them, the lantern rattling again. "Oh no you don't!" Nero roared, reaching out to grab the lantern. His fingers clasped around what felt like a solid object. "Kyrie! Hit it!"

She nodded, firing at the lantern. The shots all hit, and there was a sound of impact; yet the lantern only seemed to be chipped by the attack. The creature, however, gave a raspy scream of pain, and the lantern wiggled up and out of Nero's extended reach. He retracted the arm, smirking. "So you do have your weak point." The lantern was bobbing and weaving now, refusing to give them an easy target as it threw fireballs every which way. But Nero liked a challenge. He aimed carefully at the lantern, leading it just enough to score a hit. Or so he thought; he hit, but the bullets only grazed the glass. There was the briefest screech of metal on glass, and then the creature had disappeared again.

"Behind us!" Kyrie yelled, whirling around and firing. Her shots all hit the mark save one; the creature had only just reappeared when two crossbow bolts slammed into the lantern, hit at almost the exact same moment as Nero's shot. The creature visibly recoiled, and the lantern stopped moving for the briefest of moments.

"NOW!" He took the briefest amount of time to charge energy into Blue Rose and he and Kyrie fired as one. The combined shots hit the lantern with a resounding _CRACK!_ And with a high-pitched, rattling howl, the smoky form of the creature dissolved into nothingness. The lantern, with nothing left to support it, dropped to the ground; as it hit, the glass cracked loudly, and the red light twisted and rolled until it, too, had dissolved completely. The fog around them thinned rapidly, fading until they could see their location quite easily even in the darkness. The fires died out, leaving the night air cool and windy once more.

Nero holstered Blue Rose, looking at Kyrie with a mixture of pride and curiosity. "…That was pretty good just now. How'd you know?"

She looked down at her hands, which were still holding the crossbow at the ready. "I…I didn't…" she said, in nearly a whisper.

He frowned, looking at her for a few moments, before shrugging and walking over to collect the lantern. "Well, no worries. But if we could train that skill, you'd be advancing with combat in leaps and bounds."

She nodded shakily, finally lowering her arms. "Yes. Let's…let's return. Perhaps Sirius might know more."

* * *

"-and so then I says 'James, you say one more word and detention's the _least_ of our troubles!'"

Officer Jones roared with laughter, actually slapping his knee in mirth. "Hah! I almost envy your school life; my mum always said if I wasn't careful, I'd fade into the wallpaper."

Sirius gave a bark of laughter. They'd dispensed with card games after Sirius had lost three rounds running, but in the process of playing had discovered something he _was_ good at; telling wild stories. "Ah, you look like you've made out all right."

Jones chuckled. "Hmm…another one, would you? I can't get enough of these!"

"Another one? I've lost count after ten of these." But he smiled all the same, preparing to launch into a story that, had it been told, might have actually driven the other man to tears of laughter. However, it was at that moment that Nero and Kyrie returned, the former holding a lantern and wearing his cello case, and the latter carrying her crossbow. "Well? How did it go?"

"Apparently people were being led astray by unusual hallucinations," Kyrie said, watching the policeman out of the corner of her eye. "When they got lost, a particular creature found them and…well…"

Sirius's smile slid from his face, and he bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry. But from the looks of things, you've stopped whatever it was."

"We did. Got a little trophy out of the deal again." He passed the lantern over to Sirius, who examined it. "It was carrying this; no doubt the light the witnesses reported."

"Mm." He looked at the policeman, who was looking slightly pale but resolved. "It looks like the culprit's been stopped. Though I suppose that doesn't help you much, what with the lack of evidence beyond this lantern."

Officer Jones sighed. "Well, at least I can say I've done everything to bring this situation to an end. I suspect there's a story here that would put even your stories to shame, Sam; but you seem like good people, and you've helped me out, so I'll let it slide. What do I owe you?"

The three looked at each other, slightly uncomfortable. "…Tell you what," Kyrie suggested. "Drop by every now and then to have a meal; we'll give you a discount, and that should call us quits."

He blinked. "…Are you sure, ma'am? I mean…I'm not rich, but you've done something that helped me out a lot."

"Then spread the word," Sirius suggested. "Let them know about our place, and we'll consider it advertising. Fair trade."

Jones shook his head, bemused. "If you say so. But listen; thanks. Really." He stood up, shaking each of their hands. "You ever need a favor, you give me a call," he said, handing Sirius a number. He tipped his hat and left.

Sirius looked between the two of them. "Well, not bad for a night's work. Looks like this hinkypunk was a lot worse than what they usually are."

"You know what? We can go over details tomorrow," Nero muttered, slumping off to one of their personal rooms. "For now, I think the only meeting I can handle is my face with a pillow."

* * *

MISSION COMPLETE

RANK: A

SAVE / NEXT MISSION

ENEMY FILE

 **New!** Will o' Wisp

\- A hinkypunk that has somehow been corrupted by demonic power. No longer merely content to lead travelers astray who approach it, it instead seeks them out, drawing them into an illusory paradise before devouring them.

\- Its lantern has become a focus for demonic power projected as illusions. Those who witness its light can be trapped in its spell.

\- If you become entranced by its illusions, do not give in. Remember your skills as a Devil Hunter and break free!

\- Its lantern is the only solid object that it touches; its entire body is impervious to physical attacks of any kind.

\- ?

\- While it has been reinforced with demonic energy, its lantern is still a physical object, and can be broken with enough force.

 _5/6_

* * *

Happy Halloween, everyone!


	16. Chapter 16: Earth, Water, and Life

Chapter 16: Earth, Water, and Life

Rain was pounding on the window panes as Harry woke. Seeing as how he was tired, sore, and cold already, this did little to lift his spirits. Matters did not improve during Charms class, where he found his time split between failing to properly perform the Silencing Charm that Flitwick had set them as well as hearing Hermione reconsider the idea of independent Defence Against the Dark Arts sessions. Harry thought this last bit was a bit rich, given that it was her idea in the first place; after seeing her skill with the Silencing Charm, however, he decided not to press the issue.

Quidditch practice was no more uplifting. He could barely see with all the rain, and the only thing he learned from the session was in the locker room, where Fred and George seemed to have discovered a few nasty side effects to their newest concoction, Snuffling Swizzles (they didn't seem to mind, but in his opinion, sneezing out bright green bubbles that refused to pop for minutes wasn't exactly appealing). The whole thing would have been unremarkable enough, but after practice, his scar had hurt and he'd felt a surge of frustration quite apart from his own run through him. Thankfully, no one had noticed except Ron.

"You ought to tell someone," he told Harry as they returned to Gryffindor Tower.

"I tried telling Sirius last time, and look how that turned out; can't risk him talking to me if Umbridge is grabbing anyone in the fireplaces." He couldn't help the note of bitterness that crept into his voice.

"Why not McGonagall?" Ron asked as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "You could even ask if she could turn your scar into a dormouse or something."

Harry smiled, but it was a strained thing. "I don't think she could help even if she wanted to. And besides, how long do you think it'll take before Umbridge puts out a decree that says 'all questions go to the Inquisitor' or some such?"

"Dumbledore, then."

He merely shook his head.

Ron frowned, tapping his foot for a few moments as he thought. Then his face lit up. "Hey, what about-"

"Are you two going to sit there chattering all night, or are you going to give me the password?" the Fat Lady said irritably.

They had no time to continue their conversation once they'd entered; Hermione cornered Harry about his still-unfinished Potions homework, and Ron, who was no further along than Harry, chose that moment to sneak off to the dormitories.

It was another late night for him; by the time he was finished with his essay, it was well and truly dark outside, and the only one left in the common room was Crookshanks. Not feeling especially tired and eager to let off some steam, he took the small, misshapen blade from his bag. He practiced swinging and blocking with it for about an hour; simultaneously feeling both a little foolish and a lot excited.

It was as he prepared a downward strike that there was a small crack, and a figure appeared in front of him. He had to halt the blade immediately to avoid cutting into the new arrival, which caused him to stumble horribly. But he hardly cared when he saw who it was. "Dobby!"

* * *

The following day was nearly the opposite of the previous one; Harry could hardly keep up with the number of things that had happened.

First, there was a moment where he and Cho had nearly bumped into each other. The number of other students between them was too large, however, so he was unable to relay the information Dobby had given him. In the process, however, he nearly ran headlong into Luna Lovegood, who he'd not seen in the hubbub. He told her that they had a new meeting place for practice and when to be there, and she agreed to spread the word to the others that were interested. She then continued off in the direction she'd been heading initially, though this time she was practically skipping. Shrugging, he proceeded to Herbology, and even the continuing rain had a hard time dampening his mood.

Then, there was the gossip that Umbridge was wearing bandages over one of her hands. Harry had glanced at the hand he'd written into during detentions and felt a savage sort of triumph, though it was difficult not admitting that he knew where her injury had come from. While Umbridge was more irritable than normal, he had his best lesson with her to date, spending the time thinking up spells and techniques to demonstrate.

Then there was Defence.

Harry's eyes went wide at the scene beyond the door. The entire room had been filled nearly to the top with water (no doubt from that strange whip Dante had), and yet not a drop of it was moving past the threshold. It rose upward like a wall, roiling back and forth yet never out. Hermione looked as transfixed as he did, and Ron said, in a hushed voice, "Blimey."

"As promised, a water-based battleground." Dante had appeared behind the crowd of shocked students, the multi-corded whip slung over his shoulder. "It's too cold to throw you in the lake, so this'll do. Before we start, is there anyone that can't swim?" A few students raised their hands shakily. "…Seriously? Hmm…" He thought for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. "Got it. That's no problem. We can adjust whenever it's your turn." He lowered his arm, the whip rolling out to dangle just above the floor. "We're not going one by one, or we'd be way over time, so we'll do it in groups of three. Rules are simple; if every member of your group manages to hit me at least once, you pass the lesson. If you manage to all hit me at the same time, you get double credit. You go over the time limit, you get half credit, regardless of how many times one or two of your group got a good shot in. You've got five minutes per group; gather up quick and we'll start the first round."

Harry, Ron and Hermione all moved together rather quickly. As the rest of the class divided themselves up, Harry advised the other two with him. "I have a feeling I know what we'll be doing today. Whatever you do, don't stand still; keep moving as much as you can."

"How are we all going to hit him at the same time? That's the real issue," Hermione muttered.

"It really isn't. The real issue is not getting hit in turn." His mind was racing, thinking up possible attack ideas. Whoever was first would be at an obvious disadvantage; everyone else would have time to discuss their plans with each other. Even without seeing the others try on their turns, that extra time would be a huge help. So as soon as the first group went, the three of them could-

"Okay, enough chitchat for now. First in line…" He looked over them all, his eyes coming to rest on…"Weasley, Granger, Potter. You're up."

Harry sighed. _Should've known._

He waved them into the room, walking straight through the wall of water. Hermione and Ron looked from the water to Harry, who strode forward, unconcerned. He held his breath, stepping into the room.

Only a few feet past the water, the room was dry and full of air. Harry looked back towards the door, and a few moments later, Ron and Hermione followed in. They looked around the room in awe, and he followed their glances. It was impressive, he had to admit; a ring of water stretched around them, from the floor to the ceiling. The desks and chairs were in their usual places, and Dante was standing atop his own desk. "Better get to high ground fast; we're about to start the waves."

Harry hurriedly jumped onto a desk, helping Ron and Hermione clamber up after him. The man in red raised the many-tailed whip, and water flowed from the ring around them to cover the floor, rising so quickly that they were carried upwards along with the desks, which floated in the rising water along with the chairs. They stopped when their heads were about five feet below touching the ceiling, but more water flowed upwards, coating the ceiling above them as well.

"Astounding…" Hermione breathed, looking around the room. Ron gave a low whistle, obviously impressed.

Harry stared straight at Dante, dropping into a ready stance. With all this water around them, an attack could come from anywhere, and he needed to be ready for anything.

"I've been waitin' to see what you can do as a team. Don't think I'll go easy on you," Dante warned. He slung the whip over his shoulder, beckoning to them with his left hand. "Let's GO!"

Harry immediately cast a Shield Charm behind them, a wave of water crashing into it and falling back into the pool around them. "We have to get closer!" he called to the other two. "Use the desks for ground!"

They listened and followed, but to his dismay, Ron went to his left and Hermione leapt to his right, the latter casting several spells. Growling in irritation, he jumped forwards onto a desk; he made it, hurriedly reestablishing his balance. " _Expelliarmus_!" he yelled, pointing at Dante. The man leaned out of the way of the spell, and made a lazy swiping motion with his left hand. Harry flattened himself against the desk, water leaping over him and splashing back into the pool.

"Harry!"

He looked over in Hermione's direction as he got to his feet. Apparently he had not been the only one under attack; she had been knocked into the water, and was thrashing around as her robes soaked in the water. "Help!"

"Ron, keep him busy!" He leapt from desk to desk as he heard Ron send a barrage of spells at their Professor, jumping over a wave as he leapt from one desk and ducking under another as he ran across it. He skidded to a halt at the edge of the desk, bending down to reach for Hermione. "Quick, take my hand!" She grasped his hand, and he heaved her onto the desk with him. She coughed, spitting out a mouthful of water. "Dry yourself off quickly, and this time, stay with me."

As soon as Hermione was dry, however, she said "But we need to surround him if we all want to hit him at once."

"Never mind that for now! Focus on just getting a hit in!" He saw Dante turn his attention to them and casually flick a hand towards them. A wave rolled towards them, displacing desks and chairs as it did. He tensed, preparing for the impact.

" _Depulso_!"

A chair crashed into Dante, who flinched. His gaze turned back in the direction of Ron, who whooped with glee. "How'd you like _that_?" He punched his fist into the air, and then abruptly toppled off the desk as a wave crashed into him.

"Good hit, kid. But you left yourself wide open; the fight's not over yet."

The rolling wave reached Harry and Hermione, who felt the desk rise up violently underneath them, throwing them into the air. As Harry felt his feet leave the desk, he thrust his wand in the Professor's direction. " _Impedimenta_!" Dante made to lean out of the way, but too late; the jet of light hit him in the leg, causing him to stumble slightly. There was no time to appreciate his victory, however, as he tumbled backwards into the water. He fought desperately to make it back to the relative stability of a desk. Ron, meanwhile, was trying to get out of the water as well, clutching a chair for something to keep him afloat.

"Ron! Here!" Hermione pointed her wand at the chair. " _Wingardium Leviosa_!" The chair rose from the water, bringing him to dangle just above her desk. He let go, but held out a hand to her. "Wait! Don't drop it; I have an idea." As Harry got onto a desk between the two, he whispered quickly into her ear. She nodded, and the chair began to float towards Dante.

"Better hurry; time's almost up!" the man in red chided them, folding his arms across his chest.

"Harry!" Ron shouted to him. "When I say 'now', grab that chair!" Harry nodded, then sent two Stunners at Dante. He dodged both, but the chair had moved to hover slightly above head height, between Harry and the white-haired man. "NOW!"

Harry leapt forward to grab the chair, which shot forward at the man before coming to a sudden stop. Harry let go, his momentum carrying him feet first straight at Dante. The man prepared to counter, but turned to his left to deflect a chair that flew at him. He whipped it away, turning back just as Harry kicked both feet into the man's chest. It had no effect, nor did he expect it to, but a split-second after he'd hit, a jet of water from Hermione's wand struck the man in red full in the face. Harry fell into the water once more, and as he surfaced, he heard Dante call out "Aaaaand TIME. Not bad, you three." Harry felt the water swirl under him, lifting him up and setting him onto a desk as the water level began to lower.

"You guys did okay, but it took you a while to cooperate. I was hoping you'd be able to get your hits in, but you missed about three chances to hit me all at once. Try to get a feel for how everyone in your group fights and adjust; it's fine calling out plans helps against demons that don't know your language, but announcing your strategy generally isn't a great idea." The desks came to rest on the dry floor. "Nice plan, though, Ron. Good thinking on your feet. Hermione, you were a bit slow to start, but you did a nice job with your spellwork. Oh, and good job being on guard at the start, Harry. You two should work on that." He nodded, and then gave a small smile. "No extra credit, but still full points. Tell Seamus, Dean and Lavender it's their turn next. Oh, and don't give away the quiz; I want to see you guys prepare _and_ adapt."

Once they'd left the room (traveling once again through the water barrier), the class began bombarding them with questions. "What was it like?" "How'd you do?" "How is the water staying up like that?"

Ron shook his head, ignoring the buzzing and looked at three people in specific. "Dean; your group's up next." The three walked in, looking nervous, and disappeared once they were past the water.

The groups went back to their discussion, and Ron looked at the other two. "Well, that was…interesting."

Harry nodded. "I think I've found something to address in our…lessons," he said, making sure to keep his voice low.

Hermione looked devastated. "We…didn't get the extra credit," she said tonelessly.

Harry looked at Ron, who shook his head. He took the hint and said nothing.

Eventually, the last group had finished, and the wall of water disappeared once they had exited the room. Dante walked out as well, looking around at all of them. "Not bad. Room for improvement, but not bad overall. Before you leave, homework for next time; I want you to write a short essay on what stuff you need to work on, and how you can fix it. No minimum word count or length, but I'm expecting you to do better the next time we do something like this, and I'll remember whatever you write." The bell rang. "Class dismissed!"

Harry looked to Ron and Hermione, then picked up his bag and prepared to follow them down to dinner.

"Hang on a sec, Potter."

Harry stopped, turning back to look at Professor Dante. "Yes?"

"Got a question about your essay." He waved cheerfully at Ron and Hermione. "Don't worry, it's nothing bad." They shrugged, and with a fleeting look at Harry, they slowly left. Dante motioned him back into the classroom, and Harry followed, closing the door behind him. "So, you interested in seeing a demon for yourself?"

"You found one?! Here?!"

"Pretty sure, yeah. I was thinking about checking into it on Saturday; you busy?"

He shook his head vigorously. "When? Where?"

"Meet me by the entrance doors at five. I don't mind if you give the other two a recap, but until we're sure what we're dealing with, I'd rather not put too many people in danger."

"But…you will take me with, won't you?"

"Yeah. I'd rather start you on a total pushover, but who knows how many chances we'll get at this. Bring your wand, and any protective gear if you've got it."

Harry nodded, and turned to leave. "Hey, kid." He turned back, if somewhat irritably. "This should go without sayin', but make sure the three of you are the only ones who know about this. If Pinky Paranoid finds out…"

He nodded. If he had anything to say about it, she'd be clueless until the day she was sacked…which, hopefully, would be very soon.

* * *

After what had to be one of the longest days off he'd experienced in some time (made no better by the mountain of homework he and Ron had been trying to slog through), it was time to set out. Ron and Hermione bade him good luck, and after making sure he wasn't being followed, he threw his Invisibility Cloak over himself and made his way to the entrance hall. He found the Defence professor (his sword once more inexplicably on his back) peering at the House Point hourglasses, entranced by the gleaming gems within them. He pulled the cloak off, stuffing it into his robes. "If you're going to take some-"

In a blur of motion the man had whirled around, his hand leaping to the hilt before freezing as he saw who was behind him. "…Not bad. You'll have to teach me that trick sometime." He relaxed. "What were you saying?"

"If you're going to take any of those, make sure it's the emeralds."

He smirked. "Stealing right under Al's bearded nose? Come on, I've got a little more sense than that. So, you ready?"

"I am. Where are we going?"

"You'll see." He walked through the large doors, and Harry followed as Dante led them in the general direction of Hagrid's hut. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but you've been this way before, right?"

"Yes, why?"

"Just in case things get dicey and you need to escape without me."

"Is…is that normal?" he asked nervously.

"'Normal' is…not a word I'd use for this kind of stuff." The rest of the trip to Hagrid's passed in silence, Harry dreading exactly what would be waiting for them. He was not exactly relieved when, instead of stopping there, the man in red continued in the direction of the forest. "Don't fall behind," he called backwards, and Harry had to lengthen his stride to catch up with him.

His dismay grew further when they'd barely been on the forest path for ten minutes before the Professor walked right off of it. So far, nothing good had come from doing so; and the last time had involved giant, human-eating spiders. But they'd come this far already, and his curiosity was getting the better of his fear; despite his misgivings, he followed. "Dante…are you sure we're going the right way?"

"Definitely. There's a telltale sign of demonic presence this way; even if a few know how to hide it, it's impossible to fake."

Harry was about to ask another question when the professor stopped abruptly. As the teenage wizard stopped in turn, he could see why; they had come upon what looked like a cluster of trees so thick that they were impassable, save for a narrow space that they could fit through. Dante motioned for him to follow, and they walked under the branches that were just high enough to allow them passage. They walked along the impromptu path for a full minute before walking through another opening.

Harry gasped. They were standing in what looked like an enormous meadow with a single towering tree at its centre, filled with messy grass and several types of colourful flowers he had never seen before. The sun was clear and bright overhead, banishing the gloomy atmosphere of the forest they'd journeyed through. He looked back to where they'd come from, and realized that it hadn't simply been a cluster of trees…it was a circular _wall_ of trees bordering this strange and beautiful clearing. "Wow…"

Unlike him, Dante did not seem impressed in the least. On the contrary, there was a noticeable frown on his face. "That's not good…"

"What's not good?"

"There's a lot more power here than I thought. It might not be weak after all…" Barely had the words left his lips before he tensed. "And it knows we're here."

A surge of panic hit Harry as he felt a small shake under his feet, and then heard a sound like groaning wood.

" **Well, now…just who might you be?"** a deep, rumbling voice echoed around them.

"Stay close, kid," Dante whispered to his young companion.

" **Oh…if it isn't the Legendary Devil Hunter himself. And is that your apprentice? Or has the school changed its teachings to include demon-hunting?"**

"Maybe one, maybe both, or maybe neither," the red-coated professor said casually. "But if you're gonna pick a fight with someone, I'll go first."

" **Settle down, Son of Sparda,"** the voice replied lazily. **"I've no reason to battle you. Unlike the rest of my kin, all I care about is survival and being left alone. Preying on humans would hinder those things, no?"**

Dante relaxed slightly, but still kept watch for any signs of trouble. "So you haven't eaten any humans since you've been here?"

" **Not a single one."**

"…Seriously?"

" **Do you have any idea how much ambient magic flows through this forest? That, mixed with blood from whatever creature is wounded on any given day, or their freshly buried corpses every now and then, is enough of a meal for me. There's enough concentrated power here to let me feast for another three centuries without lifting a finger."**

"Well, aren't you a first…" Dante mumbled. And then he seemed to realize something. "Wait. Three _more_ centuries?"

" **Easily. Six, if I paced myself. Then it would just be a matter of going to sleep for a few decades to let it all recharge. Rinse, repeat."**

"And just how many centuries have you been here already?"

" **Only two. Even so, what fortune that I found this forest! So much fertile soil, so much energy permeating the very land and air…It only took me a few decades to make this little hideaway of mine. A pity you were able to find me, though; I thought I'd hidden my energy perfectly."**

Dante frowned, considering this new information. _Here for two centuries already? How did this one get here so far before us?_ "So you haven't eaten anyone alive at all? Just magic?"

There was a somewhat uncomfortable silence. **"I have only fed on thinking beings when there was no other choice; a mere four centaurs throughout the years. They were highly rude and stubborn…but quite salty in taste, I'll admit. A good meal; too stringy, though."**

He sighed. "I knew it…"

" **I left their brethren alone, and have not had conflict with them since,"** it insisted. **"But it was the only way to stop them hunting me. They're very in tune with the forest here, and they could sense where my heart had been hidden. They would have cast me out, or killed me,"** it added, a slight plea in its tone.

Dante cracked his neck. _Starting to get that feeling…looks like I might have to-_

"Pardon me!" Harry had finally spoken. "I don't know the circumstances for what you were just talking about, but if they had left you alone, would you have killed them?"

" **No,"** whatever it was answered. **"I just wanted to live out my days in comfort. But they left me no choice…"**

"There's always a choice," Dante responded. "You could have moved, but no; you didn't wanna leave your free food if you didn't have to."

" **And where else was I going to go? Do you see any other forest teeming with magic around here?"**

"Probably isn't one for miles around," Harry noted. "If I might ask, are you a demon?"

" **Of course. Why would you…ahh, I see. You're human, though you've some magic of your own."**

He nodded. "We've been talking for a little while, but we really don't know much about you; even your name. My name's Harry. Harry Potter."

"… **THE Harry Potter? I've heard stories about you from the centaurs and gamekeeper that tend to this forest; you sure know how to pick them, Son of Sparda."** There was a rapid creaking sound that, after a few moments, Harry realized was a chuckle. **"Hmm…well, it's only fair. My name is Zemyna. A pleasure to meet you…Mr. Potter."**

"You too," he responded. Perhaps some demons weren't as evil as the rest of their kind? "If you've been in this forest for two centuries, you must have sensed me in here during my first and second years. Er, about three and two years ago."

" **Three years ago…hmm…oh, that was the year with the hunted unicorns, yes? That was certainly a strange year; I don't think the forest has ever been so active. Well…until this year, of course. As for two years ago…that was when that strange object came here. I can sense it still; it's not alive, but full of magic. Would you know what it is?"**

Not alive, but full of magic…Harry gaped; he knew _exactly_ what it was. "That's the car! The old Ford Anglia!"

" **A car? How fascinating…I'd always been under the impression they ran by means of electricity rather than magic."**

"Well, Ron's dad charmed it and…" He shook his head. "Actually, it's a long story. But tell us more about you."

Another creaking chuckle. **"Perhaps another time, human. You and your mentor should be running along; night approaches, and those within this forest are about to begin their hunt."**

It was true; the sun was beginning to reach the edge of the tree borderline. "Okay. But we'll see you again!"

" **I await it eagerly; you're far more interesting than the rest of the rabble around here. Farewell Mr. Potter, and farewell Son of Sparda."**

Dante tossed a lazy salute in the general direction of the forest. "Hasta luego. Let's go, kid." They trudged back through the archway under the branches and back into the forest proper. Dante had reached the path shortly after, Harry having to walk at a near jog to keep up with the Defence professor. "I'm not gonna tell you what to do or anything, but if you wanna stay alive, don't ever go back in there at night."

"Agreed." After what had happened last time, Harry was in no hurry to go anywhere near the forest at night. "Are all demons like that?"

"Nope. Most want to eat you, kill you, or take something from you, and not in that order. Even the more honorable ones are all about power; if you have more than them, they'll respect you. But that one almost seemed like it was…"

"A layabout?"

He nodded. "Still a little early to trust it, though. Stay on guard."

"Are all demons bad?"

He was quiet for some time. Harry was considering what else to ask for several minutes before he was finally answered. "…No. But think of them like the opposite of human beings. Most humans are all right, with a small number of jackasses mixed in. But you'd be hard-pressed to find any demon I'd call 'good'."

"But they do exist. Right?"

"…Yeah. They're out there."

The rest of the trip back passed in silence, and Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower. As he did, he couldn't help but feel that Dante had known more than he let on, and even though his curiosity made him eager to learn more, it might be sooner than he wanted when he learned why Dante was so keen to share so little.

* * *

CHAPTER END

Sorry this one's a bit late, but here it is! Hope you all had a good Thanksgiving; I'm thankful to have all of you awesome fans. :-)

Next Time: Mustang Wranglers


	17. Mission 03: Mustang Wranglers

**Mission 03: Mustang Wranglers**

 _Defeat the demon of the depths!_

 _MISSION START_

"Come on, come on!"

"You're kidding yourself, he doesn't stand a chance."

"Shows what you know. Come on, Regal!"

Nero, Sirius, and two customers in the bar were all crowded around a television screen, eyes fixed on the proceedings; a horse race that they'd taken bets on. Meanwhile, Kyrie was chatting with their remaining customer.

"It looks so heavy; was it difficult to carry back here?" she said, looking at the large blade behind the bar.

Kyrie gave a nervous chuckle. "Well…it was a struggle, yes. But it does add a certain style to the place."

The woman nodded. "It does indeed. I must admit, in all my years I've never seen a weapon on display quite like that…"

A collective "Nooo!" went up from the group huddled around the television set, echoed by all except a certain white-haired man with a very smug look. "Looks like I hit the jackp-"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Sirius. He and the rest of the group all handed Nero £50 notes with varying degrees of grumpiness. "You have to tell me how you did that," he said as the group returned to the bar.

"Beginner's luck?"

"How did I know you'd say that…?"

"Beginner's l-"

"Oh, shut up."

After everyone had finished their drinks (which the blue-coated victor had so generously paid for), it was time to close up for the weekend. So, with mixtures of compliments and friendly insults (or at least what he _hoped_ were friendly), they all left for the night, the sun dipping low in the sky. The door had barely clicked shut before Kyrie's shoulders slumped in exhaustion. "Thank heavens we closed early; I thought I was going to fall asleep on my feet." She gave a great sigh. "What a day…we seem to be getting more popular lately."

"It's Sirius's cooking and our bartending," Nero said simply. "And maybe the nice location we're in helps, too."

"It still seems risky," Sirius said, frowning. "I've no problems with serving Muggles or wizards, but having both…"

"It's not against the rules. We checked, remember?"

"The rules aren't really what I'm worried about."

"Okay, I get you. It's a gamble," Nero admitted. "But as we've seen, those turn out pretty well for me."

"At my expense!" Sirius said loudly, unable to keep a smile off his face. "You keep taking my money and I might just wither and die before we even reach next summer."

Nero chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't bet on it."

The fireplace flared, green flames licking the edges as a serious-looking man's face appeared within them. "Is this The Blue Knight?"

Sirius looked into the fire. "You'd better not be trying to get us to buy black market dragon eggs. Because if you are, you're the third this week, and we'll tell you the exact same thing right now: NO."

"I work for the Ministry of Magic, actually."

Sirius stiffened very slightly. "My apologies."

"No trouble at all." He looked around at them all. "It's been brought to my attention that you were the ones involved in a situation in Hampshire over a month ago, as well as another in Knowl Hill."

"We are. Have we broken any laws?"

"…No. As it transpires, you've helped us out a great deal in doing so. St. Mungo's is stretched thin as it is, after all; the last thing they need is more patients."

Nero had a feeling he knew what was happening, but best to be sure. "So if we're not in trouble…"

"Correct. I'm asking to employ your services, on behalf of the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I'm even willing to overlook the supposed dragon egg offers you haven't reported yet."

"Certainly," Kyrie responded. "What can we help with?"

"We've been having troubles with a kelpie at Brookland Lake in Kent. We've been aware of it ever since it moved in about eleven years ago, but it hadn't been causing any trouble until recently."

"You didn't think a beast that eats humans and can take nearly any form would be cause for concern?!" Sirius snapped.

"It's been taking the form of an otter every time people get near it, and it's managed to slip away from any capture attempts. From what we can tell, it's been feeding on the occasional fish and whatever remains fall into its territory. To be honest, it's been more beneficial than anything; it's even cleaned up the lake a bit by eating all the food waste that falls in."

"But that's changed."

The man's head nodded. "Yes. A few days ago, it became extremely aggressive, attacking anyone that came near the lake. The Department hasn't been able to determine what's caused this sudden change in behaviour; even with the slow rise in Muggle activity around the area, it hasn't ever responded like this before. So far it hasn't killed anyone, but it's wounded several Muggles and vanished every time we've tried to capture it. We can continue applying Memory Charms for the time being, but this has gotten out of hand. If this keeps up, we're going to have a breach of the International Statute of Secrecy on our hands; anything you can do to help would be greatly appreciated."

"Got it. Give us the address of the closest wizard home in the area, and tell them we'll be there in half an hour." He saw the man nod, and then his head disappeared before the fire returned to its normal state. "No offense, but this is going to take a wizard's skill; I'm a lot more familiar with kelpies than either of you."

"No offense taken." Kyrie looked at Nero. "I'll go this time. You promise not to gamble away our bar while we're gone?" she teased.

He winked at her. "Without you here to watch? Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

The two tumbled out of the fireplace, Sirius with more grace than Kyrie. He was casually dusting himself off with one hand as he pulled her up with the other. "All right there? Floo's not an easy thing to get used to."

"You managed it," Kyrie groused as she readjusted her dress.

"One of the few good gifts my family gave me." A dark smile crossed his face. "Oh, if they could see me now; they'd probably be trying to stand in our way, tell the truth."

"…Family…" Kyrie's frown changed to a mournful look.

Sirius's smile fell. "Hey…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay." She took a steadying breath, and forced the smile back on her face. "One cannot mourn forever, or they forget how to laugh. In any event, I think my parents would be proud of me. I know my brother would have; he did things much like we do as a knight of the Order of the Sword."

Sirius motioned a hand to the door, and she began to walk toward it. "He was the one who made Nero's sword, right?"

She chuckled despite herself. "The very basic core, maybe, but Nero's customized and upgraded his blade so much that you'd assume it was a different weapon altogether. It's changed a lot."

He opened the door. "Like him?"

"Mmm." She walked through it, and he shut the door, following her. "But much like his blade, even though he might be more powerful now, his soul remains the same."

 _Do you know what happens when a soul is broken?_

She shook the thought away. No…that wasn't it. And besides, they had a job to do. They walked in silence for some time along the roadside, winding their way towards the lake.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Well, for whatever it's worth, I sure appreciate having you and Nero to help. This is the sort of thing that Ja…that a friend of mine would have been good at, and I'm a bit rusty. Couldn't imagine doing it on my own."

She felt a pang of guilt as he said the words, wishing there was a way where she and the other three from her world could return home and yet keep in touch with their friends. "We're happy to help."

"Well, you might not be quite so happy when we get where we need to." They were some distance down the path now, and they could just see the light reflecting off the surface of the lake. "Kelpies are dangerous at the best of times, and this one sounds especially-" Sirius stopped as the lake came into view. "Best be careful; no telling who might be listening. Not a bad view, though."

Kyrie had to admit, it was quite a sight to behold; the sun had not quite dipped below the horizon yet, and the light of the sunset was dancing across the lake in a gorgeous pattern. But no matter how beautiful the view, they had a job to do, and people's safety depended on them doing the job well. She raised her crossbow, and saw out of the corner of her eye that Sirius had casually drawn his wand. "It's quiet."

"Yeah. If we're lucky, our friend cleared the area for us ahead of time."

She didn't ask about if they were unlucky; her mind was running through several possibilities already, and none were appealing. "Do you think that we-"

A scream echoed out in the distance. The two glanced at each other before sprinting towards the noise. Moments later they reached the water's edge, and a terrible sight met their eyes. Several children were scrambling out of the lake, while two more were swimming rapidly to the shore. A monstrous creature was right behind the two children in the lake; it looked like a monstrous, fanged serpent, with mottled green skin and two of its teeth bloody. Looking closely, Kyrie saw that the source of the blood was a wound on the shoulder of one of the swimming children. "They're in danger! Quick, I'll go in and shield the children; you-" She broke off; Sirius had changed into his dog form and bolted forward at the lake. "…completely ignore me, I suppose," she muttered irritably.

Sirius raced to the shore, barking furiously. He dove into the water, doggie-paddling towards the children. They reached him within seconds, grabbing desperately onto his fur. He turned around, pulling them towards the shore. However, his canine form was ill-suited for swimming, and the enormous serpent caught up rapidly. It reared back to strike…

…and its shape changed, shrinking down just in time for three crossbow bolts to sail over it.

"Leave them alone!" Kyrie yelled, standing at the water's edge with her crossbow raised. She went to reload. "Hurry, Sam! Get them to safety!"

Sirius's form had finally reached the shore. The children let go, coughing and spluttering, and Sirius took his human shape once again. He grabbed both of them around the waist, pulling them up and running away from the lake as fast as he could.

Kyrie sighed with relief, but her expression became hard as she finished preparing her weapon. She boldly addressed the kelpie. "Come, then. If you wish to harm them, you'll need to go through me."

* * *

Sirius stopped when they were a good minute from the lake, setting his passengers down as he panted for air, his tongue actually hanging out as he did. "Gonna…feel that…tomorrow…" It was at that moment that the wounded boy clutched his chest, hissing in pain with his eyes shut tightly. He composed himself, and managed to catch his breath just as the other kids gathered around.

"What was that?" "Who are you?" "How did you do that?" "What's wrong with Simon?" "Is he hurt bad?"

He held a hand up to stop the torrent of questions, drawing his wand and kneeling down. _Never mind the Statute of Secrecy for now; he needs immediate healing!_ "Hold still; I can stabilize you, but I'll need a few moments." He didn't bother to wait for a response, pointing the wand at the place where the boy had been bitten. He cleared everything from his mind, knowing that distractions could do even more harm to an attempted healing; muttering a few incantations, the wounds closed before the group's eyes. "Seems that monster cracked one of your ribs as well. _Ferula_." Bandages appeared over the boy's torso, tying themselves tightly. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes cracking open. _Thank heavens Dumbledore made every Order member learn basic healing._ "That should help with the pain, but you're not actually healed; stay where you are and don't move until help arrives. You," he said, looking up to one of the boys gathered around. "What's your name?"

The boy jumped at being addressed. "P-Paul."

"Paul, get to the closest phone and call for an ambulance. The rest of you, stay here and watch over Simon." Sirius stood. "I'd stay with you if I could, but we have to stop that monster." And with that, he sprinted back to the shoreline.

He saw Kyrie roll out of the way of a large beak, a sharp talon slicing off a small strip of the hem of her dress as she did. She sprang back to her feet, glancing back at Sirius before turning back to her opponent. "Welcome back! Mind helping?"

He nodded, looking at the creature in front of him. It was identical to a hippogriff, and yet seemed to refuse to leave the water. He pointed his wand at the creature. _This kelpie knows a few tricks, no doubt. We'll have to end this quickly!_ He cast an Impediment Jinx at the creature.

Its wings flapped forwards, sending it back and out of the way of the attack. It shifted, its form drawing inward and upward at the same time. Within moments it had taken the shape of a large, human-like creature, who roared at the two. It had purple skin, with two short horns sprouting from the top of its head, and towered over them at what he guessed was about ten feet.

He smirked. "A river troll, then? The bigger they are…" He pointed his wand at the troll's legs. " _Incarcerous_!" Large ropes nearly the size of a person's arm shot from the tip of his wand, wrapping around the troll's massive legs. It attempted to take a step forward, and though the ropes cracked and strained, they held; the troll stumbled, stopping itself before it tripped but ceasing its momentum. It then glared at Sirius before its form shifted once more, squashing inwards and lengthening as it shrank; the small snake fell right through the now loose ropes, wriggling back into the water before growing to monstrous proportions as it became a sea serpent once more. "…Right. Kelpie," he muttered to himself. He leapt to the side as the creature's head lunged at him, avoiding its snapping jaws and waving his wand as he moved.

Kyrie saw something appear in Sirius's hand, but before she could make it out he had splashed into the lake. She turned her gaze back to the creature in a hurry. She almost paid dearly for her lapse in concentration; another second later and she would have been unable to move out of the way as the beast snapped at her arm. As it stood, however, she escaped with merely a tear in her sleeve. She used the opportunity to fire at the creature's retreating head; the three bolts did not impact, but two grazed the side of the reptilian snout. It hissed angrily, rearing up and opening its jaws.

"Open wide!"

The snake's head turned at the noise, and a knife flew into its still open mouth, impacting its cheek. It hit handle-first, which it would have been able to shrug off had it not reflexively bitten down, driving the blade into its tongue. It screeched in pain, shaking its head violently to dislodge the embedded knife.

As it did, Kyrie looked over to Sirius. "Do we have a plan?!" she yelled.

"Try to find some reedmace!" he yelled back, firing several spells at the thrashing creature.

"I don't know what that is!"

"Bulrushes, then! The ones that look like a sausage on a stick!" The serpent changed form into a troll once more, and used its hand to grab the knife stuck in its tongue. It yanked the blade out, throwing it at Sirius. " _Evanesco_!" he yelled hurriedly, and the blade disappeared mid-flight. The monster spat a gob of blood into the lake, locking its furious eyes onto him.

Kyrie's eyes darted around, looking for something that might fit the description. _I assume it's a plant? Sausage on a stick…what kind of plant looks like a…_

The creature had changed forms once more, becoming the troll again. It raced at Sirius, and he jumped out of the way. It turned, stomping at Kyrie next. "Kyrie! Hit the deck!"

She leapt out of the path of its charge, but the direction of her action took her into the lake. The songstress found her footing, but standing on the lake's bottom barely kept her head above the surface; any further into the lake and she'd be treading water. She raised the crossbow to fire, but the drag of the water slowed the movement considerably. In the time it took her, the troll had charged at her, knocking the weapon out of her hand and bellowing right into her face.

"OVER HERE!" Sirius roared. " _Diffindo_!"

A gash appeared on the side of the creature's face. It turned to him, glaring, but then turned its head back to stare at the woman it had cornered.

Or so it thought; she'd taken the opportunity to wade back towards shore, and had come close enough to get her upper body above water. She ducked into a patch of reeds near the edge, going as still as she could. She heard a great splashing behind her, and turned slowly, sinking down to sit on the lake bottom so as to hide; otherwise, her white clothing would have been a dead giveaway. With only her head above water once more, she heard Sirius yelling and casting several spells, and the splashing of the creature moved away from her. She took a few moments to catch her breath. _Okay; reassess. Lost my crossbow, so that's out. Sirius can probably get it later, assuming we survive. No magic on my side, so that's not an option either. I need to look for something that could help tip the scales for us._ She looked around in the reeds for something that could assist. _Now what could there be here that-_ Her thoughts halted as her eyes found a horrible scene, and a hand moved to her mouth despite herself.

It was the corpse of a large animal, and it had been torn to pieces, likely in the process of its death. It was difficult to say exactly what it was; it seemed to have pale blue skin, and the general outline of a horse, but other than that she could not have said. It almost looked like a foal, though not of any type Kyrie had ever seen. _Whatever did this looks like it was vicious and hungry. Could it have been a demon that killed this animal? I wonder what-_

"Kyrie!" Sirius's voice called out. "Wherever you are, I could really use some help!"

She looked away from the remains and up to the reeds around her. She blinked as she saw a few plants that had an almost sausage-shaped top to them. _THAT'S what he meant?! But it's…never mind!_ She climbed up out of the water and yanked several of the plants from the mud. She splashed to the shore, returning to Sirius, who was ducking under the smashing fists of the troll.

"What kept you?!" he snapped when he saw her, barely avoiding a punch from the meaty fists of the creature. "Distract it!" He jumped over a swiping hand. "So that I can Transfigure those!"

She dropped the plants on the shore, and the troll shifted form, turning into a bat the size of a dog. It flapped at her, screeching shrilly. _I hope this works!_ She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled as hard as she could. She was actually quite impressed with herself; the whistle was piercingly loud, and the bat halted in mid-flight, its wings curling into itself as it fell like a stone into the water. Kyrie stopped whistling, and a large crocodile surfaced where the bat had fallen.

"Got it!" Sirius called out, holding a large bridle in his hands. "We just need to put this on it."

"What good is that supposed to do?!" She backed away from the water as the crocodile set off towards her.

"Kelpie, remember? It'll pacify it!"

 _We have GOT to work on our communication._ She jumped over the snout of the crocodile, running towards Sirius, who began casting spells at the creature. It shifted forms once more into a small hare, which leapt back into the water.

"I've got an idea! Cover your ears!" He pointed his wand at the water, where the large sea serpent had reappeared. Kyrie complied, and so did not hear what Sirius said after that. But once he had, a bolt of light shot from the tip of his wand, striking the water with a loud, booming sound that shook the air itself. The snake recoiled, twitching violently, before collapsing into the water.

Kyrie removed her hands from her ears. "Well, we've got a few moments before the next fight for our life. Do we have a plan now?"

"If I use a Placement Charm to put this bridle on the kelpie, it'll make it harmless. But we need to get it back into its usual form and make it hold still to do that, otherwise I might miss."

" _Usual_ form? What's its usual form?"

A shape rose from the lake, shaking its head and flaring its nostrils. Its mane was unruly and tangled, much like the "bulrushes" Kyrie had hidden in. Its large equine body was dark blue, and its eyes were a blood red. It stomped its hooves in the water, glaring at both of them.

Suddenly the bridle made sense. _Wait…its usual form…_ And then she got an idea. "Slow it down; I'll slip the bridle on!"

"What?! But you don't have-"

"Then you had better keep it still for me, hadn't you?" She took the gear from his hand, and then stared down the kelpie as she planted her feet. "Get back."

Sirius backed away from her, both awed and worried. The kelpie charged at her, roaring, but she did not move. "Kyrie?"

"Be ready."

It was getting closer. "…Kyrie?"

"I can do this."

It was feet away, and it lowered its head. _Now!_ She leapt up and forwards, reaching out her hands and grabbing the creature's mane. Her fingers dug in, and for a moment they slid across the wet hair, but she gripped tightly and felt herself stop, her body crashing onto the horse's back. Kyrie hissed in pain, but forced it from her mind as she focused on the task in hand. _Need to get this on…_

" _Impedimenta_!" The spell hit the kelpie's side, and the beast slowed to a halt. As it did, he looked at Kyrie. "Hurry!"

She fumbled with the straps on the gear, trying to force it over the creature's snout, but even though its legs were not moving, its head snapped at her hands as she made her attempt. "Working on it!"

"Why is this thing so angry? You'd think we killed its father or something!"

Something clicked inside her mind. _Father…_ The image of the dead foal-like creature came to her. _Or perhaps…child?_

The creature had regained its movement, and turned its back to Sirius, lashing out with its back hooves. One of them caught him in the shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground. Once it was on all four legs again, it reared back, charging into the water with Kyrie still on its back. "Damn it…" Sirius rasped, clutching his shoulder. "No…Kyrie!"

* * *

The horse plunged into the water. Kyrie managed to gulp a lungful of air before they had gone under, sinking like a stone. Part of the bridle was on, but not all of it; she hoped desperately that it meant the kelpie would keep its current form, because if it didn't she would only have a few moments before it changed into a water-faring creature and ended her life. _I have to finish this!_ , she thought desperately as the creature thrashed in her grip. _I won't let other families suffer like ours did!_

It writhed back and forth beneath her, and she felt her lungs begin to ache. _Please…I understand now! I understand why you're lashing out! So let us help you, so that no one else has to die!_

Her lungs were in pain, and she began to see images of Nero flash before her eyes. _I have to return…I don't want him to be alone again…_ They were getting much deeper now, and the water was beginning to get darker. She kept trying to slip the bridle on, but her movements were beginning to slow somewhat. _Please…please…_

Kyrie's lungs were badly in pain now. _We have to go home…together…Home…Not the false image that we saw…we saw…!_ She had no idea if it would work, but what other option was there?! She wrapped her free arm around the creature's neck, and rested her head against it. Her mind flickered back to how she had felt when fighting the misty creature…how she hadn't known where it was, but she _felt_ it. In that brief moment, she had felt something strange; an echo of anger, hunger, and fear that had not come from her. And if she could feel those things, it stood to reason that…well, it was worth a try. She remembered how desperate she had been, and how she felt as if she was seeing a current of thoughts passing her by. So, to do it in reverse…

She projected her own thoughts into that current. How she saw the body of the foal and how sad she had felt…how she wished she could help…

The creature stopped writhing under her. She could slip the bridle over now, but she only had one chance, and if she failed now…

She showed it moments of her own life…the day Credo, Nero and her had lost their parents, and how she couldn't bring herself to say a word until after the funeral…and then the day that Credo had died trying to free Nero from the Savior; how she had watched from within and been powerless to stop. She felt the emotions overwhelm her, and her tears were washed away in the water of the lake. But she could feel the sorrow from the creature as well, and so she continued. She showed the creature an image of the children it had been attacking, and an image of how devastated their parents would be if they died. That image merged with an image of her being heartbroken by her loss, and then merged with the image of the foal.

The kelpie went very still, and she felt its neck bow. It might have been in mourning.

Her lungs were on fire; it was now or never! She sent out a picture of her holding her hands around the horse's neck, with a bridle on it, as they stood at the shore. Then a picture of Nero, Sirius and her all gathered around the kelpie. Then a feeling of love and family. Then a picture of the kelpie and a live foal following it. And then she moved all the images together, with the feeling of a question.

She started to feel her vision fading…

* * *

Sirius stood on the shore, waving his wand. " _Accio_!" Nothing happened. "No…please don't be…" He waved his wand again. _Levicorpus_! Nothing happened. "Please…not again…"

There was a ripple on the surface of the water in the distance. A shape began to rise out of it, and he thought he might have heard a coughing sound. _Please let that be Kyrie…_ It began moving towards him, slowly but surely. As it grew closer, he saw that Kyrie was on the back of the kelpie, taking great gulps of air. He gaped at the sight. "I don't believe it…"

The two reached the shore, and Kyrie slid off without warning. He barely started moving towards her before she had flopped onto the dirt. "That…was…tough," she said, panting.

"That was _brilliant_ ," he responded in awe. " _You_ were brilliant, you should have seen it."

"Well, I'm glad it looked good, because I never ever want to do that again." She moved to a sitting position, and he sat down beside her. "Cattails."

"…Beg pardon?"

"We know those plants as 'cattails'."

He smirked. "You Yanks and your strange language." His expression became more concerned. "Thank Merlin you're okay. If you hadn't been so incredible, I would've…"

"It's okay. You gave me the idea in the first place; no need to punish yourself."

"…I was actually going to say I would've had to do everything myself."

"Ho ho."

He grinned. "But really, I'm relieved you were able to handle it." He looked over the lake. "How _did_ you do it?"

"How indeed." She smiled, a hint of mischief breaking through her exhaustion. "Even so, we really need to work on our communication."

"Er…yeah, that was a bit of a mess." He stood up, helping her to her feet as well. He waved his wand, and her crossbow came shooting out of the lake and into his hands. Once he'd caught it, he handed it over to her. "Shall we make our grand exit, then?"

"I suppose so. What about the injured boy? Is he okay?"

Sirius nodded. "He's fine. It'll take him a while to heal up, but as long as he doesn't do anything foolish, he should be fine."

"And did you get the rest of them to safety? Where did you take them?"

"Well…"

"That was incredible!" came a young voice from behind them.

"So much for nothing foolish," Sirius muttered, turning around. All of the children from earlier were gathered near the shore, looking between the two of them and the horse. "Don't you remember me telling you to stay with him?" he asked, pointing at the boy wearing bandages. "And you, Paul," he said, turning to the child, who quailed under his stare. "I told you to get help."

"Well, we thought you could use help," he said, looking at his feet. "So we came to see what we could do…"

"And then you got distracted watching the fight." He looked at Paul, clearly trying and failing not to look boastful.

"…Yeah."

He frowned. On the one hand, wizarding law clearly stated that their memories should be erased to keep the Statute of Secrecy. On the other hand, he was a fugitive who had broken out of quite possibly the worst prison that Britain had ever known, was an unregistered Animagus, and was currently working for a business under a false name and appearance.

Paul gulped. "So…er…are we in trouble?"

Sirius sighed, and then smiled. "No. Not with us, anyway. But your parents might not think the same thing." The gathered children all looked at him with worried expressions. "Let's go have a chat with them."

They looked as if they'd rather have the kelpie chasing them again.

* * *

"Almost…" Nero flipped the bottle into the air, catching it before it could fall too far. "…Damn. Only two spins that time." He tried again. "Three…come on, show me four…" He tossed the bottle into the air.

The door opened. "We're back!" Sirius said cheerfully.

Nero turned to look at them. "Oh, hey-Ouch!" He winced as the bottle clonked onto his head, bouncing off. "Nonono…" He reached out quickly, grabbing the bottle with his left hand. "Phew. That was a close one. How did the…" He trailed off as he saw Kyrie leading a large blue horse into the bar through the door. He looked at Sirius. "Should I even ask?"

"You should, it was _amazing_. But we need to get her hidden away before you do."

"'Her'?"

"Later, ask _later_." He and Kyrie led the horse to the back room that most of their supplies were kept in, and began to close the door.

The fireplace flared green, and a form tumbled out of it, brushing off soot from its cloak. "Ah, good, you've returned."

Sirius and Kyrie turned around quickly. "Ah, hello!" Sirius said, giving a warning look to Nero as he looked at the new arrival. "Our Ministry friend, I presume?"

"Naturally." The person lowered their hood; the man looked at them, smiling. "I must say, you're quite prompt; I hadn't expected you to get it done for a few hours yet. Were there any complications?"

Kyrie felt the door behind her give way somewhat, and she tried desperately not to let her eyes widen. She stepped slightly backwards to block the view of the door beyond. "One or two, but nothing we couldn't handle."

"Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners? John Lowe, at your service." He held out a hand.

Sirius stepped forward to shake it. "Sam Jacks, Jr. Pleasure."

"Kyrie," she said, nodding to the man. She felt a nose nudge against her hand. She scratched it, and then waved slightly backwards, making as little motion as possible. _Not now, that is the last thing we need to have._

"Well, I hope I'm not intruding; I just wanted to say thanks. Our people were impressed with your Memory Charms, as well as your story; even I almost believe that the injured boy protected the others from a dog."

She felt the nose press more insistently into her hand, but she waved it backwards. _Having a Ministry official seeing us care for a kelpie would get us in so much trouble; please don't give us away…_ She couldn't get back to the mindset she needed to use the strange ability she had before. Kyrie could only hope that John left before they were found out.

"So, what say we discuss payment over a bite to eat? I've heard good things about your food."

 _Oh, why me._ There was a loud snort from behind her, and John looked over questioningly. "Sorry; sinus problems." She itched her nose for effect.

He frowned at her. "Everything okay? I hope you didn't catch a cold in that lake."

"I don't think I caught anything." She felt the kelpie's nose nudge her in the back. "Definitely not a cold."

"You're sure?"

She felt the nose retreat from her, and she relaxed. "Positive."

He shrugged, and walked to the bar. She took the momentary diversion to peek into the room, noticing the horse retreating from the door, and she shut the door behind her. _Phew. Now we don't have to worry about that._ "What say we get you some steak? It is a celebration, after all…"

* * *

"I think that's everything," John said, standing up from the bar stool and looking at them. "I must say, it was a pleasure working with you."

"Pleasure's all ours," Sirius replied, pulling a flask from his pockets and taking a swig.

"I don't want to impose too much further on you, but if anything else happens to come up…"

"Give us a call," Nero replied confidently. "It's what we're here for."

"Much appreciated." He went to the fireplace, taking a small pinch of Floo powder from a teapot on the mantle. He prepared to throw it into the fire, and then paused. "Actually, one last thing. What became of the kelpie?"

Sirius grinned. "Oh, well, of _course_ we couldn't leave it at the lake to terrorize anyone else," he said, layering on the sarcasm. "We put a bridle on it, reinforced it with magic, and brought it back here to keep it out of trouble, naturally."

The man turned around, chuckling. "Well, I suppose-" His mouth dropped open as he stared in the direction of the back room door.

Nero followed his gaze, and saw what had caused the reaction. The door was open, and the kelpie was trudging placidly through it, ignoring all of them to walk up to the bar. Once it arrived, it began chewing on the leftover steak bones. Nero's face fell into his hands. "Well, shit."

Sirius chuckled nervously. "Ah…you see…"

John closed his mouth. He was quiet for a few moments. "…I'm just going to assume I had one too many drinks. But if I didn't, I'd probably say to keep quiet about it and you'd have my greatest gratitude." He turned back around determinedly, tossing the pinch of Floo powder into the fire. "Take care of yourselves." He stepped into the fireplace, and he was gone.

Sirius sighed, flopping onto a stool. "As fun as this is, I think that took a good few years off my already shorter lifespan."

"No kidding," Nero muttered. He looked up at the horse, which was still chewing contentedly on the bones. "Now just what are we going to do with you? Probably need a name, for starters…"

* * *

MISSION CLEAR

RANK: A

SAVE / NEXT MISSION

* * *

Happy New Year! (looks at calendar) Eheh...sorry about that. I thought this chapter was going to be a shorter one, but it just seemed like I had more and more to write. As always, let me know what you think about the chapter!


	18. Chapter 18: Secret Progress

_**Thump. Thump.**_

" _Here…Hide here and don't make a noise!"_

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

" _But…mother-"_

" _Not a noise!"_

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

 _Anger stirred within him. Anger, fear, and helplessness. This was a horrible scene._

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

 _Horrible…and familiar. He knew what would come, just as much as he knew he could not stop it._

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

 _ **THUMP.**_

 _A bloodcurdling shriek pierced his very soul as he clamped his hands over his own mouth, and with the sound of tearing flesh, the scream was abruptly cut off._

Dante's eyes flew open, his heart still pounding and his breath ragged. He threw his covers aside and stood up so quickly that it cracked the stone beneath his feet. _The same dream again! It's getting worse; it's never repeated this often before…_ He cracked his neck and began pacing distractedly. _Not a weekend, or I'd just annoy Lady for the rest of the day._ With a sigh, he headed for the shower, pushing his plans to the back of his mind for the time being.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Ron muttered as they crept through the hallways. "Dobby tells you about a room. This room becomes anything you want it to be."

"'Need', not 'want'," Harry muttered distractedly, looking over the Marauder's Map.

"Right. It becomes what you _need_ it to be. And so we're using it to-"

"Shh!" Hermione whispered, putting a finger to her lips.

He sighed. "And so," he whispered, "we're using it to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"That's the idea," Hermione responded.

"Is that all? We can't use it to, I dunno, find Snape's lesson plan or something?"

"Ron…" Even whispering, the irritation in her voice was clear.

"Or maybe a step-by-step guide on how to get rid of Umbridge…"

" _Ron…_ "

"Quiet, you two," said Harry. "We're here."

After arriving at the proper corridor, they made their way to a blank stretch of wall opposite a large tapestry. With no one close on the Map, they began pacing as instructed. _We need a place to train…somewhere we can learn to fight…somewhere Umbridge can never find us…_

As he turned around after his third trip past, the stretch of wall that had been blank now held a door with a polished handle. Harry turned it, and they walked in.

The Room of Requirement (as Dobby had called it) was a massive space lit with flickering torches. The space was subdivided into smaller sections; each seeming to have a specific purpose. In one corner of the room, several soft chairs and wooden tables sat flanked by large bookcases; in another, several large cushions were spread across the ground; in a third corner, there were what looked like several wooden dummies and wooden racks; in the last, there were what looked like all the Dark Detectors from the fake Moody's office from last year. The rest of the room was a large open area that reminded Harry strongly of the area that he and Dante trained in.

Hermione made immediately for the area with bookshelves, while Ron went to inspect the Dark Detectors. Harry, for his part, walked over to the training dummies. He rapped his knuckles against one. _Definitely solid wood_ , he thought. _Odd, though…I was trying to think of a place for us to practice Defence Against the Dark Arts. Though I guess when I think "training"…_ An image of him fighting against Dante sprang instantly to mind. _Yep, thought so._ He stepped over to the weapons racks, examining them next. _Just look at these. Staves, swords, even spears…they may be all wooden, but these are perfect! Maybe I could sneak in here for my regular training…_

After a few minutes, people began to file in. They all reacted to the room with the same awe that Harry felt; well, except for Zacharias Smith, who seemed more distrustful of the place. Harry couldn't help but smile at their reaction, and made a mental note to get Dobby the best socks he could find at Christmas.

Harry cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. Hermione marked her page before setting the book she'd been reading aside, and the Weasley twins reluctantly set down the wooden swords they'd been testing. "I see you've all found the place-"

"It's fantastic!" Cho blurted out.

There were several chuckles, and Harry couldn't help but smile himself, even as he felt his stomach do a particularly enthusiastic backflip. "Right. So. Now that we're all here…yes, Hermione?" he said, for she had just raised her hand.

"I think we should have a leader," she said cheerfully.

"Harry's leader," Fred said matter-of-factly.

"Well, yes, but we ought to make it formal."

"I second," Zacharias Smith muttered, and several people stared at him in surprise. "What? Better that _you_ organize this nonsense; I've got enough to do."

"Objections?" Ron asked. No one spoke. "Motion carried, then," he said, grinning.

"Well…thanks," Harry said, feeling both embarrassed and slightly pleased. "Anyway, so now that _yes_ , Hermione?" he said in one breath, looking at her raised hand with reluctant amusement.

"I think we should have a name, too."

He thought for a moment before frowning. "We can decide on that later. For now, we need to get started. We've got a lot to cover and not much time to do it. So, then…" He looked around at them, grinning as he decided on how to go about things. "Can anyone here tell me the most important thing in a fight?"

After explaining a few basic pointers about how to stay alive in combat, he ran them through basic stretches. A few complained, but they all cooperated. Afterwards, he brought them over to the cushions for their first exercise. "The first thing we're going to do is learn how to keep our awareness. Who here can perform a Shield Charm?" To his disappointment, only a handful could. "And who can use a Stunning Spell?" Most of the fourth years and above raised their hands. He tapped his foot, rethinking what to do…and then hit upon an idea. "The ones who can do a Shield Charm stand over there then," he said, pointing to a spot near the walls. "You'll step up one at a time into this space," he pointed to a spot surrounded by cushions. "The rest of you split into groups of three. Each group will try to Stun the person near the cushions, and the person in the center will deflect with the Shield Charm. The Stunners can only cast one at a time, and I want you to keep moving. Whoever isn't going, I'll help with Shield Charms. Ron, keep them rotating out every few minutes, okay?"

Ron looked surprised, but nodded. He looked around for a few moments, before walking over to pick a whistle up off a shelf. "Right, then. Let's get to it!"

It was, Harry reflected, a strange but wonderful experience to teach others. It was awkward, even nerve-wracking at times. And yet, giving out instructions and (stranger still) having them followed, or seeing even a small amount of progress, gave Harry a swell of pride; not pride in himself, but pride all the same.

That said, it was oddly fun seeing the look on the others' faces when one of them would sneak a Stunner past a Shield Charm. Thankfully, only two spells hit someone when they bounced off the Shield Charms, and both times the Stunned person fell onto a well-placed pile of cushions.

The time had flown so quickly that by the time Harry checked it, they were ten minutes past curfew. "Well done, all!" he called out as the last of the Stunning Spells were undone. "But we've got to be going or we'll get in trouble. Shall we meet up same time next week?"

After working around everyone's schedules, they finally set a date for the next Wednesday. The assembled students filed out in groups of twos and threes, sneaking off back to their dormitories. Harry watched them on the Marauder's Map with trepidation, hoping that they wouldn't get caught on his account. And…well, it was out of concern that he was watching the section with Ravenclaw tower, really. Just to make sure that Cho didn't get caught, of course.

* * *

Harry received something of a shock when he entered Myrtle's bathroom for his next training session with Dante. The ghost herself was standing mere feet inside the doorway, staring directly forward at the door. Harry only noticed her when he almost ran into her. "Whoa!" he yelped, jumping backwards and cracking his head against the door. "Myrtle! What are you doing here?"

"This is my bathroom," she said smugly, grinning at him.

He frowned, rubbing the still-smarting back of his head. "You know what I mean. You look as if you've been waiting for me."

"That's because I have. That man with the lovely eyes was here earlier; he wanted me to give you a message."

"'Lovely eyes'?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"You were with him before. The one who wears a red coat," said Myrtle, a dreamy expression on her face.

"Oh, him. What did he want?" She didn't answer for a few moments. "…Myrtle?"

She started. "Oh, yes, right! He said to meet him at the classroom because you're going to solve a riddle." She looked at him curiously. "You wouldn't happen to be trying to solve one of the Mysteries, would you?"

"Can't say I am." This was true in a sense, given that he had no interest in sharing the information with anyone but Ron and Hermione.

Myrtle seemed to know exactly what he'd meant, but did not press him. "Well, go on then. Do let me know if something goes dreadfully wrong, won't you?" she asked, a hopeful note in her voice.

"Er, right. Thanks, Myrtle." Harry left the bathroom, thinking privately that she could at least pretend not to be so eager for more ghostly company.

He climbed the staircases, returning all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, where Hermione was looking over a star chart Ron had been working on. "It's Titan that's Saturn's biggest moon, not Tethys."

"Can't they just number these things?" Ron grumbled, crossing out his error. He looked up. "Oh, hey Harry. Practice end early?"

Harry shook his head. "We're solving another Mystery; I just found out. You said to let you know."

Ron dropped his quill, standing up so quickly he nearly knocked over his ink bottle. "You're going? Now? We'll go with!"

Hermione sighed. "You're not nearly done with your chart," she warned, but stood up to go as well. The three of them got under Harry's Invisibility Cloak and made their way to Dante's office. They knocked on the door together.

"Oh, very cute, knocking with…three hands…" came the voice from inside. A few seconds later, the door opened, and the Defence professor looked out of it curiously. "Well, I'm not hearing things, since I haven't been drinking. So…are you under that invisible thing?"

Harry pulled the Cloak off, grinning at the ever-so-brief look of surprise on the red-coated man's face. "You said we were going to solve something?"

Dante looked from Ron to Hermione, frowning. Then he sighed. "Well, okay. I don't think this one's dangerous anyway." He stepped out of the classroom, and led them through the halls as Harry tucked the Cloak away. As before, Dante was reading from a roll of parchment as he traveled to the location. It took a few minutes, but they stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall. The white-haired man tucked the roll away and drew out the eye-like object, holding it aloft. There was a brief shine of light, and a section of the wall rippled like water, reforming into a peculiar-looking set of doors.

Harry examined the doors, which seemed to be made of solid ice colored red. Instead of handles, there was the large shape of a heart covering the area where they would have been. As for the doors themselves, there seemed to be words carved into them. He squinted, reading the text. "'I permit neither mortal nor immortal to enter freely. Should you wish to pass, melt my frozen heart with determination.'"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, that's sorted it. Really gives you a sense of what to look for or do, doesn't it?" He looked over at Hermione expectantly.

She was reading the words in the doors, whispering them to herself. "'Neither mortal nor immortal'…'melt my frozen heart with determination'…but what is neither mortal nor immortal? And what are we supposed to- what is it, Professor?" asked Hermione, for Dante had begun to draw something from his coat.

"I got this. You might wanna step back." They did so, and he withdrew the bottle with blue flames that Harry had helped him collect in the room of mirrors. He glanced at the heart shape, and then flicked the whole bottle at it. The container shattered, and the flames rolled over the icy heart, which began melting before their eyes. Rather than dripping down to the floor, however, it seemed to coalesce into two door handles before the flames went out and the handles solidified. "I wouldn't do that," he said casually as Ron reached for one of the handles. "Unless you're neither mortal nor immortal."

"And you are?" he retorted, but did as he was told.

"Good. Now wait here." Having said that, Dante promptly grabbed the handles and pulled, opening both a small amount. Blinding white light came from the space beyond the doors, and Harry, Ron and Hermione hurriedly shielded their eyes with their hands. There was the sound of doors closing, and the light stopped.

Upon lowering their hands, they saw Dante was nowhere to be found. Ron looked questioningly at Harry, who shrugged. Hermione frowned. "Okay, here's what I don't understand-"

Exactly what she didn't understand was interrupted at the doors being pushed open and another brilliant flash of light. They once again covered their eyes, and when the doors shut again, Dante had reappeared, holding a golden apple and grinning. "There we go. And look, it was just for me." He showed the apple to them, which had an inscription on the side: "For The Fairest".

Ron snorted.

"Wait, I know this," Hermione said eagerly. "It's the Apple of Discord! The golden apple in Greek myth that ended up leading to the Judgment of Paris!" She looked up at Dante expectantly. "Right?"

"Uh…sure…" he said slowly, stuffing the apple in his pockets. "Well, anyway, there's another Mystery down. Hope you enjoyed it."

"…Wait, that was it?" said Ron, looking highly disappointed.

"Afraid so. And count yourself lucky; the more exciting they are, the more painful they get."

Ron sighed. "Well, at least we know now. C'mon; let's get back to Gryffindor Tower. Maybe my star chart will have written itself…"

"Later!" said Dante, waving to them cheerfully.

Shrugging, Harry followed his two best friends back to the Common Room, figuring that he should hurry up with his own partially completed chart. Thus, he did not see Dante's calculating stare directed at the door, nor his somewhat worried look.

* * *

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

 _It was happening again._

" _Here…Hide here and don't make a noise!"_

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

" _But…mother-"_

" _Not a noise! You must never come out! No matter what, you MUST hide!"_

 _He didn't want to watch, but he was compelled to._

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

 _He'd seen this so many times. And what was worse, there was no way he could change it. It would be identical to all the previous times._

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

 _On some level, he recognized the dream for what it was. But rather than give him power of any kind, it instead made him full of dread. It was almost time._

 _ **Thump. Thump.**_

 _ **THUMP.**_

 _A bloodcurdling shriek, the sound of tearing flesh, and then an abrupt silence. He heard the heavy breaths of several large creatures nearby._

" _It is done," a voice hissed. "Our master will be pleased."_

" _All of them?" growled another voice._

" _Yes. We've killed them all."_

 _The creatures began to move away. He didn't move, didn't speak…didn't do anything for such a long time. Finally, when he was sure there were no more monsters about, he left his hiding place._

 _Their home was in ruins. Out in the open, left for all to see, was the body of Eva. His mother._

 _Standing there, his fists clenched to his sides, he felt so furious, yet so powerless. It was a hateful feeling, to be unable to do anything with his rage. But that would change. He would become stronger, and slaughter the demons who had done this._

 _It started to rain._

 _There was a rustling, and he looked up. Standing across from him was his twin, his beloved brother. They looked at each other for a long time, neither sure of what to do or say. But finally, the other made the first move. He strode away from the body, opening the place where Father had left them weapons._

wait

 _He withdrew the large broadsword, the one with the skull at the base of the blade. He looked at him one more time, and then the other simply turned and left, dragging the oversized blade behind him. He watched the other go with sorrow, and then took his own sword; the thin blade secured in its scabbard._

Hang on

 _He stared at his own reflection in a puddle of water that had collected. Never again. He would never allow a day like this again. He placed a hand on his head, feeling his wet hair. With a single motion, he ran his hand through his hair, slicking it backwards._

Dante jolted awake, breathing heavily as he stared at the ceiling. _…What the hell was that?_

* * *

CHAPTER END

Well, this was an interesting chapter. We're slowly starting to work our way through the year; we won't see every day, but there's a lot going on in the next few weeks. Anyway, hope you're all doing well, and have a good Easter/April Fool's!


	19. Mission 04: Death's Harvest

**Mission 04: Death's Harvest**

 _Banish the spectre of the Reaper!_

 _MISSION START_

The woman walked around the chalk circle, inspecting it closely as she did. _Let's see…all angles and symbols correct…proper time in the lunar cycle…and can't forget this!_ She carefully placed a sprig of hellebore at all four points of the mark in the centre, flanked by several other items, and began chanting aloud. "Spirits of Wind which dwell between spaces, I call your essence forth. Through darkened skies your power soars, hurtling to your caller. With these your symbols I bring you here, to follow my bidding. Now…come forth! And grant us your aid!"

It was a ritual she'd performed countless times before, its complexity rivaled only by its usefulness. The woman had been thorough in her preparations; all candles in the right spots, the exact geometry of the ritual circle, and all the right ingredients to use. So it was with confidence and eagerness she saw a shape begin to take form within the circle.

…However, she had made one fatal error. While she had collected all the proper ingredients, she had failed to inspect them carefully. Had she done so, she would have noticed that blood, from a cut on her finger, had dripped onto one of the hellebore plants.

Her expression of eagerness changed to one of horror as six glowing yellow eyes appeared within the congealing shadowy shape. She gave a scream of horror and ran, but the shadowy mass pursued, echoing out distorted laughter…

* * *

While the night before had been busy with their kelpie job, the following one was very calm. Kyrie was grateful; they'd had enough excitement in the last week to tide them over until Christmas. With only two customers (their most dedicated regulars, at that), they took the opportunity to make use of their free time.

"For Merlin's sake…how long do you plan on spending there?"

"As long as it takes to do the job _right_."

She sighed. The argument they could do without, however.

"You're just saying that because you don't want my job. If I have to wash off any more blood…"

"I'm saying it because if I hurry, her head might come off! Just worry about yourself."

She'd had enough. "Can we _please_ not fight? We don't get time off to do things like this very frequently; perhaps we can at least try to enjoy each other's company?"

Sirius looked hurt. "Of course I enjoy your company! Both of you! It's just…how long could it take?"

"However long it takes to get all the seaweed tangles out," Nero retorted. Nevertheless, the look on his face softened slightly. "…Fine. We can switch."

Sirius gave him a grateful nod. "Thanks. I'll go get some more soap." He strode into the bar, rummaging through the supplies under the counter. As he did, he tossed aside the set of robes he'd reluctantly had to change out of that morning. _I don't see why Nero gets to wear his blue coat when my robes are "suspiciously out of style",_ he thought irritably as he reached past the leg of his trousers. Trousers were convenient in the pocket department, but they just didn't breathe the same; at least he'd successfully been able to argue in favor of the bomber jacket he was now wearing.

"Is…issat horse blue?" one patron stammered, teetering dangerously on his stool to get a better look at it.

"Sure is," confirmed Sirius.

The horse in question was placidly chewing something that looked like a bone. As he stared at it, it stopped chewing and turned its head to stare at him. Several seconds passed, and then the horse seemed to lose interest, turning back away and continuing to chew.

"…I don't get it. Wotcher doin' with a blue horse?"

"Can't you tell?" the other patron, a woman, said testily. "Grooming it."

Sirius grinned. "You heard the lady." He gave her a wink, but turned around too quickly to see her return one. He took the bottle of soap back to Nero, but something caught his ear as he did.

"…say that it was Death himself."

"Oh, please," the woman said with disdain. "Death? Really?"

"Iz true!" the man insisted. "Flyin' around wit a scythe for the past two nights, chasin' people down…"

"That doesn't sound much like Death's style," the woman said, taking a sip of her drink.

"Well, I'm not lyin'. My great-niece said-" He stopped abruptly as he noticed the blonde-haired man mere inches away. "Oh, izzit closing time already?"

"What was it your niece said?"

"Great-niece," the man corrected him, trying to give him a stern stare that ended up directed at the restrooms. "Said that it was flyin' around o'erhead, laughing and grabbin' people…"

"Where was this?"

The man refocused his eyes, realizing the serious look he was being given. "Out in the countryside. She calls me up on the phone and I assume it's because she's having garden trouble-"

"Where _at_ in the countryside?" To his dismay, the man slumped in his stool and began snoring.

The woman sighed, taking out a pen and paper to scribble something down. "Here," she said, handing it to the disguised Sirius. "I've been over for tea once or twice."

He beamed at her. "You have my greatest thanks. Next five rounds on me, Miss…?"

"Camille. And why don't we make it dinner instead?" This time, he saw the wink that she gave him.

Sirius nodded, studying the paper carefully before dropping it behind the bar. "My pleasure. Nero!" he called. "Work! Now!"

The younger man raced in from the back porch, his hair soaked with soapy water. "Got it. We need to grab anything extra?"

Sirius nodded, opening a cabinet and removing a broom with a strap attached. "Apparently the thing can fly. What does that mean?" asked the blonde-haired man as he slung the broom over his jacket.

"It means we'll have to as well. Sure hope you're good on that thing." He flipped open the cello case, hastily grabbing his blade and gun. "Ready to rock?"

"Always!" He gave a fierce grin as he flung powder into the fire, the dancing flames emerald green.

Kyrie gave a frustrated sigh as the two leapt into the fireplace. _Sometimes I wish that we could all go on a job, even if it's just once. I hate getting left behind, but taking turns like we do is necessary so that someone's always keeping the fires going._ She shook her head, pulling apart a couple more tangles on the horse's mane. "Don't worry. At least I'm still here for you." The kelpie gave a snort of what she assumed was agreement.

Five minutes later, the old man gave a start and sat bolt upright in his seat. "-and so I says to her, 'Mel, your tomatoes need some-'" He broke off, glancing dully around himself. "…Where'd he go?"

* * *

They tumbled out of the fireplace. Once more, Sirius somehow managed to slide into a standing up position; Nero slid nearly a meter of the tiled floor directly on his face. "For the record," he growled, getting to his feet and wiping the soot off, "you _are_ going to teach me how you do that, right?"

"Priorities, Nero," his friend said, drawing his wand from his jacket. "What say we take out our demon before we start letting you show off?"

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you." He stepped swiftly to the door, peeking out of it. "What time you got?"

"Five to six. Why?"

"Damn; we're gonna miss the horse races." He shrugged, sliding his gun into its holster and placing Red Queen on his back. "Well, duty calls." He opened the door, and they stepped out of the small house.

In the dimming light of the evening sun, they saw that they had come to a small village. There were a few cottages here and there, but the blinds had all been shut and the lights extinguished. Even without checking, Nero had a feeling that the doors were locked. Shrugging, he strode up to a door and knocked. Nothing. "Yo. What's goin' on here?"

"Get inside, you fool! It's almost time!" a voice yelled from beyond the door.

"Time for what?"

"Go away! I don't want it drawn to me!" There was the sound of a very heavy bolt being secured.

He stepped back, scowling. "Coward. C'mon, let's keep moving."

It took very little time to examine the other houses, as there were few. However, all were shut tight; the owners of the other places were apparently less brave than the first one, since none of them even responded to the two. Curiously, two of the house roofs seemed to have large scythes stuck into them.

Just as Nero was pondering whether to smash a door down to get direct answers or jump up to examine a scythe, there was a scream, and the faint sound of footsteps. He whirled around as his arms shifted into their battle forms, glowing red. A woman was running for dear life from a being flying after her. It had a greenish-black haze in the vague shape of a cloak, was holding a scythe with two clawed hands, and had what looked like a stone mask where its face should have been. _That must be our demon!_ , he thought. "Sam!"

Sirius was already in motion. He ran full tilt at the woman, tackling her to the ground as the demon swung its scythe. He was just in time; they tumbled to the ground a mere second before the scythe blade sliced through the air, directly where the woman's neck would have been. There was a high-pitched laughing from the demon as it reoriented itself.

"I don't think we've met, but I think I know your cousins!" Nero yelled at the demon. "And I'll kill you the exact same way!" He ran at the demon, leaping over a swing of its scythe, and launching the Devil Bringer at the monster's cloak. To his confusion, however, the ethereal hand passed right through the cape, gripping nothing as he retracted it. _Hmm…so maybe it does have a few different tricks than a Mephisto. Still, not many things that we can't solve with more bullets!_ He drew Blue Rose as Sirius and the woman got to their feet. "Run!" he snapped at her. "Get outta here!"

She was only too happy to obey, scrambling past them as Sirius pointed his wand at the scythe. " _Expelliarmus_!" The scythe flew upwards out of the demon's hand. It was of little comfort when the monster began laughing again, and reaching an arm up, the scythe spun back as if pulled by a magnet. The demon caught it easily, floating overhead as if to mock them.

"Not so fast," Nero snarled, channeling power into the Devil Bringer. He braced Blue Rose with both hands and fired. There was a loud cracking sound, and a large portion of stone shattered right off of the mask. "Gotcha! Sam, aim for the mask!"

"My pleasure!" he said, grinning. " _Reducto_!" His spell impacted the mask, and like Nero's shot, it tore a huge chunk out of the stone. However, the demon was still moving, and it wound its arm back.

"Oh no you DON'T!" Nero roared, dashing forward and stuffing his revolver into its holster. He drew Red Queen from his back, slashing horizontally as the demon made as if to throw the scythe. The weapon was knocked backwards, leaving the demon wide open. In a fluid motion, Nero had replaced the sword on his back and drawn Blue Rose, pointing it at the mask. "Bye-bye." _BANG!_

The point-blank shot shattered the mask entirely, and there was a scream from the demon as the cloak flickered and faded. The scythe flew upwards, spinning end over end as it did, before beginning to fall back down.

"Might want to move, there," Sirius said helpfully.

Nero stepped backwards, giving the man a look of indignation. "You _really_ think I didn't see that one coming?" The scythe impacted the ground, and it too shattered after a second. "I've done this before, remember?" A small trickle of red orbs flowed into the Devil Bringer, and he smirked. "Easy enough; let's go get paid." He saw the woman they had saved watching them from behind a house. "It's dead now. You can relax."

She shook her head. "You don't understand. That's just the first one. You'd better leave before the others-"

More laughter came from overhead, but this time it sounded different; deeper, and with an echo. They all looked upward. The demon that loomed over them had what looked like a horned bone mask, with upward facing horns. It, too, wielded a scythe, but its cloak was the rust colour of dried blood. As it laughed, two more demons identical to the one Nero and Sirius had just slain circled around it, laughing their high-pitched laugh.

"Looks like we're pulling in overtime again, Sam." Nero grinned, beckoning to the larger one. "C'mon, ugly!"

* * *

"Oh, hello Remus. Good to see you!"

He smiled at her as he entered the establishment, hanging his coat on a rack that looked as if it'd barely been used. "Good to see you as well."

"Can I get you anything?"

"A light ale will do, thanks." He took a seat at the bar, glancing at the man clutching an empty glass and resting his head on the counter, snoring softly.

"Don't mind Joe, he's had a few late nights." She poured him a glass, sliding it to him across the counter. "What brings you here?"

"Albus asked me to look into how you were doing. I must say, I'm impressed with how well it's running."

"Well, we've all been working hard to make it a success."

A woman sitting a few seats away from Lupin cleared her throat pointedly.

"And our loyal customers have been invaluable."

She smiled. "What can I say? Lovely atmosphere and stellar service, as you can see."

Lupin nodded politely to the woman, taking a drink of his…well, drink. "Is Si…ah, 'Sam' behaving himself?" he addressed Kyrie.

"I think he's enjoyed a chance to do something positive. Being out of his old home helps, too."

He frowned. "Well…we didn't exactly want to keep him there, but until you came along…"

"We do tend to open interesting doors," Kyrie said with a tiny smile. "How is everyone?"

* * *

"Not good!" Nero shouted as the demons descended on the woman as one.

"Hold them off, I'll get her somewhere safe!" Sirius yelled. He took the woman's hand, running into the square as Nero stepped in to block their pursuers. "Which one is-"

"There! That one!" she said, pointing to one of the houses.

He skidded to a halt, pointing his wand at the door. There was a loud clattering, and without waiting to explain, Sirius pulled the door open. "Quick, in here!"

She stepped inside. "Thank you; thank you! How can I ever-"

"Don't die, and pretend this never happened. Now lock that and stay inside!" Before he could react, she gave a small peck to his cheek. He released her hand, and she darted inside, the door slamming shut. "I could get used to this rescuing bit…" he muttered, rubbing the spot she'd kissed absentmindedly. He turned as he heard the door being latched shut again. Shaking himself out of his musing, he ran back to help Nero.

"The hell took you so long?" Nero grumbled as he leaned backwards, the larger demon's scythe slicing horizontally through the air above him. "Negotiatin' for a bonus?"

"Well…"

"Tell me later!" He jumped over the slash of one of the smaller demons, leaned out of the way of another, and then slammed the fist of the Devil Bringer into the greenish cloak of the one that attacked him last. Unfortunately, the attack sailed right through the cloak as if it were made of air. _Dammit, I keep thinking they're Mephistos! Friggin' muscle memory; either of you two have any info?_

 _The small demons are called "Sin Scythes",_ Ascalon said, as if giving a classroom lecture. _The large one is called a "Death Scythe". They use their masks to manifest themselves; don't attack their cloaks, they're just illusions._

 _Okay, great,_ he thought as he hopped backward to avoid another slash. _Now that we've got that cleared up, mind telling me something NEW?_

 _Well, if you're going to be impatient,_ growled Karkinos, _watch where you step. The Death Scythe can exert some control over localized weather spirits, specifically those of wind._

 _And what do they do with that?_ Before he could get a response, there was a powerful updraft from underneath him, and he found himself flung into the air. "Hey!" he yelled in surprise, reorienting himself to find the Death Scythe racing at him from the ground. He concentrated energy under his feet, and a glowing blue circle formed in mid-air, giving him a point to leap from and carry himself over the incoming slash.

 _To answer your question,_ Karkinos said, amusement evident in her voice, _they do that._

 _I don't much care for it doing that,_ he thought as he landed. _Now I gotta look down in addition to everywhere else._

"What the hell, Nero?!" Sirius shouted. "What on earth are they?"

"A pain in my ass, that's what they are!" He revved up Red Queen. "Watch where you step, aim for the masks, and if these things are anything like their cousins, they might be able to fly through solid walls."

Sirius gaped in shock, which left him almost no time to dodge an attack from the returning Death Scythe. Even though he avoided having his head taken off, the scythe made a shallow cut just over his left eyebrow. The demon laughed cruelly, toying with the handle of its scythe.

"You think you're so tough, huh?" challenged Nero, flashing a bloodthirsty grin at the demon. "Well, you're not the only one with a scythe." With a flash of red light, Karkinos's scythes were in his hands. "And look at that, I've got twice as many. Not so tough now, are ya?"

The demon let out another menacing laugh and beckoned with its free hand. There were several whirling sounds, and three objects flew into its hands from the roofs of the cottages around them. It glared at him with mocking glee as it held all four of its scythes in a battle stance.

Nero sighed. "Walked right into that one. Well, so what? So you've got more; let's see how you use them!"

* * *

"It sounds to me like Tonks might be distracted by something," Kyrie said wisely. "Have you tried asking her what it might be?"

"She's assured me that it's not work-related, but when I asked what it is related to, she just looked disappointed. What do you think it meant?"

Camille shook her head, feeling her own disappointment set in. "You really can't tell?"

"No. Why? Do you know what it is?"

The dark-haired woman shrugged. "Sounds to me like she's the only one who should be telling you." She finished her drink, smiling at Lupin as Kyrie poured her glass full once more. "No fair cheating."

"…Kyrie?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, but I've only got a guess. If you want to know for sure…"

"…I'll have to speak with her directly," he finished for her. "Thank heavens Si-…er, Sam isn't here to suggest something reckless. Hmm…speaking of, where did he go?" He took another steady drink.

"Oh, he and the other lad went to stop Death from tormenting an entire village," Camille said blandly, studying his reaction.

As she'd hoped, he sprayed his mouthful of ale with impressive force. Coughing, he stammered "W-what?!"

"Oh, yes. Apparently whoever it is was flying around, abducting random people and attacking others. Even swinging a scythe around."

He dropped his glass on the counter. "Are you sure? Where are they now?" Spying a piece of paper with writing on it, he snatched it up, showing Camille. "Is this the place?"

"Well, yes," Kyrie said worriedly, "but you should-"

Without waiting for her to finish, he raced to the fireplace, throwing a handful of Floo powder into it and calling out the destination.

"Remus, wait!"

He stepped inside, and then he was gone.

Kyrie shook her head. "I was going to tell him to take a broom…"

Camille patted her hand sympathetically. "A man after his friend's heart, eh? Always charging off recklessly…"

"Actually, he was the calm one…"

* * *

Remus rolled out of the fire, not even taking the time to brush the soot off of him as he threw open the door of the cottage and ran out. His eyes went wide as he took in the scene before him.

Nero was deep in battle with a large being floating in the air. The being had a red, animal-like skull where its head would have been, and was slicing at Nero with…were those _four_ scythes?! Nero was fighting back with two scythes of his own; they were black-handled with blades that looked to be made of a red metal. The fighting looked vicious; Nero was barely keeping up, even though he was moving at nearly double the speed of his foe.

Sirius (in his disguise) was flying through the air on a broom, dodging and weaving around two other beings that looked to be related to the first. These held one scythe each, and their heads looked more like stone masks than skulls. One of them slashed at Sirius's back, and he could see a tiny spray of blood as the tip cut a line into his old friend's back. "Sirius!" he yelled.

Sirius almost fell from the air; he swooped down to the ground and zoomed over to join Remus. " _Remus_? What are you…?" He shook his head. "Never mind that! Get on; I'll explain as we go!"

There was little time to argue; the smaller two beings were closing in, and would be on them in moments. Remus slid onto the back of the broom, and Sirius kicked off. "Duck!" Sirius yelled, and they did, just barely zipping under the crossed slash from their enemies. "So how's your day been?"

"What the _devil_ is going on?" Remus yelled over the sound of the whipping wind.

Sirius looped around in the air, turning to face the monsters once more. "You're close!" he yelled back, grinning ear to ear. "They're demons, they can go through walls, and their weakness is their masks. Ready?"

"Now wait just a-!" he began, but Sirius had already shot them forward. _Very well, then!_ He drew his wand, pointing at one of the creatures. " _Stupefy_!"

A jet of red light flew at the one on the right, but it passed straight through the monster's cloak. It laughed at them, rearing its scythe back before throwing it forward.

"Did I mention you can't hit the cloaks?" Sirius said as they dropped rapidly, drawing almost level to the ground as they passed under their enemies.

To Remus's horror, the scythe changed course, following them as it spun over and over. "Sirius…"

"I know. Hang on!" They changed course rapidly, turning upward. Remus had to grab Sirius by the shoulder to keep from falling right off of the broom. As he held on, he looked past the scythe still following them and saw its wielder watching them, laughing.

Time seemed to slow down as his brain lurched into overdrive, analyzing their situation. _They can probably control their scythes, their cloaks are immaterial, and they can't use other weapons, or so it seems. If the mask is the weak point…and the scythe is following us…then…!_ He pointed his wand at the mask of the one holding no scythe. " _Reducto_!" Another jet of light leapt from his wand, and this time, it struck the creature's mask directly. With a shrill scream, the mask shattered like glass; the scythe that had been following them dropped like a stone, spinning end over end.

"Nice one, Moony!" Sirius shouted gleefully. "Back down now!" He flipped them right over, racing at the ground.

The sudden movement almost shook Remus loose, and it was only with great effort that he forced himself back onto the broom. As he did, however, he felt his wand slip from his grasp, tumbling into a patch of flowers below. "Sirius! My wand!"

"We'll get it, now look sharp!" The other being was racing at them, laughing madly.

Nero, meanwhile, had yet to make any sort of hit on the creature's mask. "Stubborn jackass!" he yelled. He leapt backwards, and the creature circled around him, spinning the scythes in its hands as it did. Nero slid the smaller scythe of Karkinos onto his back and drew his revolver, blasting it three times at the demon, but the bullets were deflected by the spinning blades. He holstered his pistol, and had just grabbed the second part of Karkinos off his back when he felt himself flung into the air. "Dammit NOT AGAIN!" The Death Scythe appeared in front of him, and without thinking, he flipped forwards in the air, slicing with both his weapons. They struck the two incoming scythes, knocking them right out of the demon's hands. He wasted no time in taking advantage of his progress, and there was a flash of red as Karkinos disappeared.

Nero grabbed the demon's mask, pulling it towards himself. The Death Scythe wriggled, croaking in pain as it clutched where its throat would have been. He pulled his left fist back. "Kiss my fist!" He punched hard into the mask, and a large crack formed in it. He fell down to the ground, looking up as he landed. There was a loud roar of fury, and the demon's mask began to glow red. "Bring it!" he yelled, his bloodlust beginning to bubble up as he re-summoned Karkinos.

With a whirling sound, the demon's weapons flew back to it, and it held four blades once more. It dropped down on him like a guillotine, and he only just blocked with Karkinos in time. The two clashed again, but this time the demon was moving much faster; Nero felt himself getting pushed back as he ducked and dodged in addition to blocking with the scythes.

Sirius and Lupin, meanwhile, had landed. Remus was looking through the flowers for his wand, while Sirius was holding a Shield Charm steady as the Sin Scythe rained blows upon the shimmering shield. "Any day, Remus!"

"It's here somewhere, I know it!" Remus yelled backward as he picked through the flowers.

The Sin Scythe seemed to get bored of Sirius, and instead flew at Lupin, phasing right through a fence between them. "Remus! LOOK OUT!" Remus hurled himself out of the way, the demon mowing down the flowers with a low swing. "Oh, enough of this," Sirius snapped, dropping his Shield Charm. " _Accio_ Remus's wand!" he yelled, pointing his own in the direction of the wrecked flower bed. The wand in question zoomed out of the newly-created mulch, and Sirius caught it. "I've got it! Hurry!" Remus sprinted at him, and he tossed the wand back to its proper owner. Lupin caught it, and whirled around to point it at the demon, which was flying at them. Sirius pointed his own wand at it as the Sin pulled its scythe back for a powerful swing. As one, the two friends yelled " _Reducto_!" The spells flew at the demon's mask, shattering it as the demon let out a final scream.

As much as Sirius wanted to revel in their victory, he knew it wasn't over until Nero had finished his own fight. He spun around. "Nero!" he yelled.

The individual in question was furious. He had been trapped in a cycle for the past minute: a whirlwind would launch him into the air, the Death Scythe would zoom at him and slash with its weapon, he'd block with his own Devil Arm, which would send him back down to the ground…where another whirlwind would carry him skyward once more. _Good thing my stomach didn't have anything in it when we got here; by now there wouldn't be anything left._ As he was sent into the air once more, he felt a hand grab his, wrenching him up and further into the air, right over a horizontal slash from his enemy. "Took your sweet time!" he snapped at Sirius, who was riding on his broom again.

"I thought you didn't need help," teased Sirius. "As many weapons as you carry, you'd think that-" He broke off suddenly as he found the Death Scythe right above them.

"Let go! Now!" Nero pulled free of Sirius's grip as the demon swung at them. The blade missed, but the handle spun in its hands, and the pommel struck Sirius with enough force to send him at the ground. There was a whirling sound as another scythe flew into the demon's off hand. However, doing so had dropped its guard altogether.

A feral grin split Nero's face. His Devil Trigger exploded outward as he yelled **"Wide open!"** The Devil Trigger was again unlike his previous two; the spectre over him was glowing red, with its horns curled horizontally outwards. Curled blades sprouted from each of its inner forearms, their tips pointed towards the hands; with the way they draped over Nero's arms as he held his scythes, the physical and spectral blades formed sharp pincers. Several crablike legs were jutting out of the spirit's sides, and a number of sharp spikes were poking out of its back. Nero's appearance was different as well; his jacket had become the texture of shark's scales, and his grin showed off serrated teeth.

Sirius forced the broom upwards, hoping to reduce its speed as much as possible. However, the ground became closer and closer… _Come on; stop!_ With a final wrench, the broom shot up and outwards, reducing his velocity considerably. However, the force of the action caused the broom to shoot out of his hand, and he fell the few feet to the ground unaided. He tumbled over and over until his momentum finally ceased. _Phew…haven't been on a wild broom ride like that since fifth year…_ He stood up, pressing a hand to his head and shaking the cobwebs off slightly. Sirius pulled his hand away to find it covered in dirt and some amount of blood. _Oh, great, that wound's opened again._ He shook his hand out, looking up to where Nero was suspended in the air.

Nero flung his right arm forward, and both he and the spectre grabbed the demon's mask. The Holy Knight and the Devil Trigger spirit both punched the bone mask with their left hands over and over again. The Death Scythe writhed and roared, and its arms made as if to fight back. Nero, however, was not finished. He released the mask and grabbed the scythes from the creature itself, stabbing them down into the demon's mask. With a twisted cry of pain, the mask crumbled to dust, it cloak fading into nothingness.

The white-haired young man dropped to the ground, still holding the scythes. His Devil Trigger ended, and he looked at the other two. "Well, that took a while. Mind giving the all-clear?"

Remus was completely out of breath, so it was Sirius who pointed his wand at his throat and said " _Sonorus_!" He looked around at the various cottages. "To all those in this village: the demons are dead! You're safe once more."

There was a ringing silence for several moments, and then there was the sound of many latches and locks being undone. One of the doors creaked open, and a man peered out. "Is…is it over?"

"Yep, it's-" Sirius's voice boomed, and then he winced in embarrassment. He pointed his wand at his throat. " _Quietus_." He cleared his throat. "Yep, it's over. We got them all."

Another door opened. Then another, and another, rapidly growing until people were all staring out of their doorways at them. Sirius grinned and waved.

Nero rolled his eyes, striding around to absorb the red crystals that had formed from the remnants of the demons' scythes. _My job's done; he can handle the PR._

"They did it!" one person yelled happily.

"They saved us!" another cheered.

The residents all began to clap and cheer. Sirius beamed at them all. "Moony, join us up here, would you?" he asked his friend, who was still catching his breath. "Not every day you get this kind of adoration."

With the last of the orbs retrieved, Nero walked back to the house they'd entered the village from. "You guys can handle this. I'll head back." He doubted they heard him over the cheering, but they'd figure it out soon enough. He snorted, striding up to the mantle in the sitting room. "Now where's that Floo stuff…"

* * *

The bar had closed early and emptied out; Camille had woken Joe and called a taxi for him, leaving soon after. With the work night over, Kyrie had just begun to start wiping the tables off when the fire flashed green, and Nero came striding out of it. "Welcome back!" she said, looking at the scythes he was holding. "More trophies?"

"I thought the sword might be lonely," he said, kissing her forehead before walking behind the bar. He'd just finished mounting the new "acquisitions" when there were two loud pops, and Sirius appeared with Lupin. "Hey there."

"That…was…" Lupin gasped, winded.

"The kind of stuff we deal with, yeah." He stepped back to admire his handiwork; not to pat himself too much on the back, but it gave the scene just the right kind of class. "You did pretty well; not bad for a first-timer."

"…mad…" he finished.

"Madly fun!" Sirius said, seemingly ignorant of the cut above his eye or his own slightly heavy breathing. "That was the best one yet; glad you got to join us, Moony."

A few moments later, Remus had regained his breath. "You act as if it's routine! Just how often do you do things like this?!"

His friend shrugged. "Every few weeks or so, not counting last night. Why so surprised? It's what we set this place up for, after all."

"But I'd thought it was just a distant chance…"

"What brings you around here, anyway?" Nero asked him. "Happy for the help, but a heads-up would've been nice."

"I was just checking in for Albus," Lupin answered. "But when I heard you were in danger-"

"On a job, you mean."

"…When I heard you were on a dangerous job, I couldn't let you face it alone."

"I think you just wanted a bit of the action, Moony," Sirius said, nudging him. "Admit it, you had fun too."

"This isn't a game, Padfoot," he said sharply. "Have you forgotten about the Order already?"

"'Course I haven't. But we're saving people, Remus. You saw how badly they needed us. We're doing the same thing the Order was made to do; save lives and bring hope."

"Well…yes, but-"

"You're saying it's wrong to enjoy saving lives?"

"…No, but-!"

"Then you're saying it's easy to save people, with no danger at all."

"No, that's not-"

"Or are you saying that anyone else can risk their lives, as long as it's not us?"

"I just…" He stopped, sighing. "…I'm not going to win this argument with you, am I?"

"Not a chance." His face turned stern. "…It's what's right, Remus. It's what I want, and you know I can't stand by when innocent people are in danger."

"…And I know you well enough that there's no way I'll change your mind at this point."

"You always were the smart one."

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It was all just so…so…

"…Moony?"

…All so…familiar.

"Let me join you."

They all stared at him in shock. "You… _want_ to join?" Kyrie asked hesitantly.

"I'll have to confirm with Albus, of course. But yes. I want to join." He stared directly at Sirius. "Someone's got to keep a cool head when you go charging off."

"You know someone like that?"

Nero and Sirius snickered, grinning at Kyrie with admiration.

Lupin gave her a sheepish smile. "Ah…yes. Quite right."

* * *

MISSION CLEAR

RANK: S

SAVE / NEXT MISSION

* * *

To anyone else who ever got stuck in that loop fighting the Death Scythes of DMC1: I feel your pain. That might have been the worst part of playing through Dante Must Die, aside from enemies gaining Devil Trigger; as if chewing through all those continues wasn't already bad enough. Anyway, let me know what you think, and see you all next time!


	20. Chapter 20: The Return

"Took you long enough to show up again," Dante said, staring irritably.

The red-coated man was currently leaning against a stone wall in his room, looking at the grey-cloaked Mar. The other individual had suddenly appeared with no fanfare, no conversation, and a worried look on his face. He'd been standing there for a full twenty seconds before Dante broke the silence once more.

"So, what's the occasion? Needed someone to piss off before you can feel happy again?"

"What year is it?" asked Mar.

He quirked an eyebrow. "…Shouldn't I be asking you?"

"What YEAR?!" he repeated, a slightly hysterical edge to his voice.

Dante's hands went up to cover his ears. "Sheesh, calm down, would ya? It's 1995. Speaking of, why'd you send us back three years earlier than last time?"

"Oh no…" the sorcerer whispered. "No, no, no…" He took a deep, hissing breath through clenched teeth as he closed his eyes. "Cedric Diggory died, didn't he?" the man ground out.

The Devil Hunter stared at the man, his expression oddly calculating. "Yeah. Something to do with a freaky ritual in the summer."

The other man stamped one of his feet into the ground; for a half-second, there was a flash of fire around him. "Damn it! I missed the target! How is that possible?!" Dante watched as he began to pace. "Could it be because the portals were opened from a moving location? But that can't be right; it happened between seconds, so there was no…hmm…maybe I calculated the Hawking Constant incorrectly? But unless the divergence waveform was greater than point five…the only way for that to happen would be…" He stopped pacing, his eyes narrowed. "Of course…someone's changed something; there's an unexpected visitor here…"

"What, did you find a mirror?"

He finally turned his eyes back to the man in red. "You're not far off. Have you seen another person dressed like me?"

Dante's eyebrows raised, and he actually forgot the jab he'd been preparing. "No. Are you saying there's _more_ of you?"

"I'm one of a kind, thank you very much. There are others of my…profession, though." He set his jaw. "It must have been that meddling windbag. Winning in a fight just wasn't enough for him; no, he just _had_ to throw a twenty-pound spanner in my plans."

"So why not just teleport us back to before he did that?" He watched Mar carefully.

The man stared at him. "It doesn't work like that," he said, as if to a small child. "Not that I'd expect you to understand universal metaphysics. The short version is that I can't."

"Try me anyway."

Mar rolled his eyes. "Fine, why not?" He sucked in a deep breath and then began talking very rapidly. "As outlined by the Briefs Multiversal Model, any time a change is made to a timeline, it splits, creating an alternate timeline. The causes are numerous, but the most frequent are time travel and reality warping. Thus, in accordance with the Brown Effect, subsequent changes to the timeline invariably cause it to splinter further and further into multiple alternate timelines, of which one could be considered the 'true' timeline, the timeline that continues as if changes have not been made. However, as we know from Pluto's Paradigm, changes made to the future of a timeline that has already deviated can be done in such a way as to avoid further splintering. Therefore, it is safer to make alterations within the already split timeline than to alter a point before its split. So _that's_ why I can't just drop you off at an earlier spot." He looked at Dante expectantly. "So, did you follow all that?"

Dante blinked. "Okay…let's go back to you talking about someone modeling briefs…"

"I didn't think so. Like I said, the short version is that it doesn't work that way." He sighed, gritting his teeth. "Look…if you see a person like me, find out their name and tell me when we meet again. If I know his name, I can track him in this world."

"And what makes you think I'm going to do anything to help you?" asked Dante with a defiant look.

Mar smiled, but there was no humor behind it. "I think you will. Where I'm content to let you do your thing, he's unpredictable. He might help you. Then again, he might also kill someone to amuse himself. He and I fought in the last world because I wanted to stop Sherry being infected by the G-Virus."

Dante stood up straight. "He tried to stop you? Why?"

"DID stop me," he said, rubbing his jaw absently. "Thus the need for Sherry's cure. He tried to pretend it was because of our orders, but…I suspect he actually did it because her infection would be 'interesting'."

"' _Interesting_ '?!" yelled Dante. "She could've turned into a constantly-mutating freak of nature! That's what he calls 'interesting'?!"

"That's the kind of being he is." He gave Dante a searching look. "Say…you haven't been experiencing anything strange, have you?"

Dante's thoughts flickered to the dream of the previous night. _That's none of his business._ "You mean like demons being here? I thought you were pretending that wasn't real."

"No," he said, sighing. "I was there; I saw Birkin throwing up his Blades. It's why I've been gone until now. Unfortunately, I can't find out what's causing them; there isn't supposed to be a divergence point before you and your friends arrive where you need to be. I'm monitoring the other worlds, but nothing's come up yet. It's very worrying; neither this world nor the last were supposed to be open to demons."

"I don't get it," Dante said, running his hands through his hair. "What happened to make them pop up in these worlds after we get here?"

Mar chuckled darkly. "You're asking the wrong question. You should be asking 'What happened to whatever was keeping them out before?'" And with that, he snapped his fingers, striding through a portal that had appeared in front of him and disappearing.

* * *

Harry frowned angrily. _Why is this so difficult? And why is it taking so long for me to-?_

Within the past couple of weeks, Harry had been ecstatic to see how far the Defense group had progressed. All of them had gotten better, but there were standout moments here and there that made him feel a glowing sense of pride. Whether it was Ron disarming Parvati while leaping to the side to dodge her spell, or Colin Creevey using a Summoning Charm to pull in a table to hit Zacharias Smith from behind while his guard was down, or Neville surprising them all by reflecting a Stunning Spell off of a glass cabinet to slip past Hermione's Shield Charm (though the effect was unfortunately marred when he fell flat on his face because he'd been leaning so far forward)…all of them still managed to put a smile on his face.

And yet, when it came to his own improvement…

Three electrified bats zipped past him one by one as he shot two jets of water at Dante. Dante, however, jumped casually over them, strumming on the oddly-shaped guitar as if he hadn't even noticed.

Harry's training had been ramping up in difficulty with every session. Their game of "tag" had evolved to Dante being able to jump and take single steps to avoid Harry's blasts of water. As if this hadn't been enough, the current session had also added the caveat that his guitar playing would be increasing in tempo. This meant more bats, which meant Harry had to change direction and dodge more quickly, which meant he had yet to hit Dante with so much as a droplet of water so far. _Just once! Why can't I hit him just ONCE?!_ His frustration only intensified as he was struck on the leg by one of the bats, and felt the electricity course through him.

"If you've got time to sit there and glare at me, you've got time to move or attack," Dante said, in a deliberately bored-sounding voice that Harry knew was intended to anger him further. "Unless you've got a technique that makes you invincible when you plant your feet, I wouldn't stay there if I were you."

Even as he clenched his teeth together, Harry rolled out of the way, knowing that Dante would swarm Harry's position with bats to prove his point. He wasn't disappointed; no less than five bats swooped through the space he had occupied a mere second before. He sprang back to his feet, switching directions as he did. It still didn't prevent him from being hit by another two bats.

"You're running out of time, and I doubt you're gonna get a hit on me in the next minute. Guess this one's gonna be a shutout." He wasn't even looking at Harry now; he was staring resolutely at his guitar strings.

That was the final straw. Harry felt his rage boil over, and for a moment he forgot all about the rules of their competition. He was sick of being ignored; first by Dumbledore, and now by Dante. _You want a hit? I'll give you a hit!_ He ran full-tilt at Dante, leaping over a flurry of bats. He clenched his left hand into a fist, leaned out of the way of two additional bats, pulled his fist back and punched the man in the face.

Harry was breathing heavily through gritted teeth, fist still extended, for several moments of silence. Then, slowly, the realization of what he'd done crept into him, replacing the fiery feeling in him with an icy one. _Oh…oh, that was stupid…_

He sheepishly retracted his arm, and Dante turned to look directly at him. There was silence for a few more moments, and then the man said "That's not water."

Harry gulped. "W-well…no."

Dante sighed, but to Harry's slight relief, he didn't actually seem angry. In fact…he looked like he was repressing a smile. "Tell me, how did you hit me?"

"E-erm…rule one."

"Which is?"

"Know your surroundings." There was quiet for another moment, and then, feeling like that wasn't quite enough, he added "You were looking at your guitar instead of me."

There was no hiding it now; Dante smiled at him. "You're right. I was wondering if you'd pick up on that. Was hoping you'd hit me with water instead of just hitting me-" (Harry chuckled nervously) "-but I'll count it anyway. Still, that was only one hit; that means I win."

"Yeah." If he was being honest, Harry was just happy that he wasn't going to be punished. He wasn't quite sure why he'd snapped so quickly, though the repeated electrical shocks probably hadn't helped anything. Could it have been-

"Anyway, we'll stop it there for today. Next time we'll start something new; you've got decent enough reflexes and balance, plus I don't think you can get this place any cleaner considering where we are."

He was quite right; Harry had managed to get their training area in the corridor under Myrtle's bathroom so clean the place almost sparkled. The smell wasn't much better, but Harry figured that was a battle that would never be won. "I'm always up for something new. What will it be?"

"What, and spoil the surprise?" Dante said with a smirk. "Not many of your enemies are just going to up and announce what they're about to-" He stopped suddenly, frowning. "…Well, best to _assume_ they won't announce what they're about to do."

"Had a lot of experience with that, have you?" asked Harry, steadily failing to keep the grin off his face.

Dante snorted. "Kid, I've gone against demons with such an obvious windup to an attack that a _line dance_ would've been more subtle. Then again, I've gone up against someone that could cut your throat and sheath his sword again in the blink of an eye, so don't get so cocky." He said the last few words hoarsely, as if he'd begun saying them without realizing quite how much they would cost him. The smirk was gone, replaced with something distant. And…sad.

Harry took a moment before carefully asking "And…who was that person?"

The man in red sighed. "…Doesn't matter, now," he said softly. "You won't be fighting him." He cleared his throat and a smile appeared on his face once more. "Anyway, just be prepared and keep your lessons in mind. We'll meet again in a couple of days."

As they left, Harry's mind began buzzing, curious about what Dante had said; or rather, what he had _not_ said. _Someone who he's fought that could move in the blink of an eye, hm? I wonder who it was. A friend, maybe?_ _Or could it even be…family?_ Despite his curiosity, he couldn't bring himself to ask; Harry could tell that whoever it had been, the matter was deeply personal to the Defence professor.

Still…

"What was it that Zemyna called you?" he asked as they left Myrtle's bathroom.

Dante looked at him before smirking. "'Son of Sparda'. Not my favorite title, but what can you do?"

"Sparda?"

He nodded. "Yep, Sparda. But you probably haven't heard of him, so I'm not gonna quiz you on it or anything."

 _Sparda? Could that be the person who…?_

"Anyway, see you in class." And he walked away, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

* * *

"Do you think Dante has family?"

It was late Thursday evening; Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all sitting in chairs near fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, working on their own projects. Hermione had been supervising a pair of knitting needles that were floating in midair knitting what Harry assumed was either a jumper or a particularly knobbly pair of pants. Ron had been struggling to find more words to fill out a particularly nasty essay Snape had assigned them about poisons, and Harry had been looking up information on giant genealogy to scrape something together for History of Magic.

"You tell us, you've spent the most time with him," Ron said, sucking his quill thoughtfully. "Can either of you think of a way to stretch 'dulled senses' out to about twenty words?"

Harry shrugged. "Sorry. And I was wondering because of something he said when we were training yesterday."

"You could write to Sirius," Hermione suggested, brushing a strand of yarn away from her knee. "He's in the Order, so he'd know better than we would."

Harry shook his head. "After what happened with Umbridge in the fire, I'd rather not risk it. Nero might get mad if he had to bite her again." Ron snorted, and Hermione smiled somewhat reluctantly. "But I think that demon in the Forbidden Forest knew his parents."

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

"She called him something, and tonight he said it too…said he was the 'Son of Sparda'."

Harry had expected Hermione to suddenly know who Sparda was, and begin quoting to him his accomplishments at length; her puzzled look matching his own came as somewhat of a surprise. What also came as a surprise was Ron bursting into uproarious laughter, nearly spilling his ink bottle over his half-finished essay. "Something we don't know, Ron?"

Ron was clutching his sides, his face nearly as red as his hair. It was several moments before the laughter finally ebbed away. "Sorry…sorry, that was just unexpected. Here we thought he'd told you some big secret, and he was just playing a prank on us."

"A prank? What do you mean?"

"You did hear him right, yes?"

"…Yeah, so?"

Ron gave another chortle. "It's just…if he was going to joke, he didn't have to tell the most ridiculous one. He really did say the word 'Sparda'?"

Harry was feeling somewhat irritated now. "He did. I even asked him to repeat himself."

"That old fairy tale?" Ron snickered. "Oh, come off it. Don't tell me you two actually believe that one."

"What fairy tale?" Hermione asked, the tone of her voice indicating that Harry was not the only one feeling frustrated.

Ron looked between the two of them, as if waiting for them to stop pretending. When they didn't, he stared agape at them. "You can't be serious. You must have heard it; my Mum told it to me dozens of times when I was growing up. Next you'll be telling me you haven't even heard of Beedle the-"

"We were raised by Muggles, mate," Harry cut in pointedly. "Mind sharing the story with us so we're not left out?"

"Well, all right, but it's just a story…" Ron shrugged, looking into the common room's fire. Harry wasn't sure why, but his gaze wandered in that direction as well. "Long, long ago, before Merlin had ever been born, before Hogwarts had laid its first stone…before we even had witches or wizards, they say there was a world that lived in the shadow of ours. A world full of monsters." As Ron spoke, the flames seemed to flicker and dance, and Harry saw in his mind's eye a clear picture of the tale silhouetted by the fire. "In that world, there was an evil demon king that was not satisfied with ruling the shadow world, and decided to conquer our own. So the humans and monsters fought a huge, horrible war. Humans fought bravely, with everything they had…but they were no match for their enemy."

He could see it; men and women alike fighting with everything they had against a world of demons. But no matter how hard they tried, the heroes fell one by one.

"The monsters were taking over, making gates to link our world to theirs so that no one could escape them. It seemed that all hope was lost, and that humans were doomed. But then, one day, there was a brave hero who stopped the advance of the monsters. A lone warrior who stood up to this evil army armed with nothing but his sword and an unbreakable sense of justice. That hero…was Sparda. The Legendary Dark Knight."

Harry saw a single figure standing in front of waves upon waves of terrifying creatures, holding a large curved blade and…was that a helmet with two horns? Or was it a helmet at all?

"Sparda himself was a demon, but he was filled with compassion for the cornered humans. He turned on his own kind, driving them not just away from people, but all the way back to their own world. He separated the two worlds so that nothing could ever threaten us again, but to make sure that humanity would stay safe, he gave us the gift of magic."

A bizarre picture of a demon with glowing red eyes trying to teach a crowd of Dumbledores how to make fire popped into his head…

"After that he disappeared, never to be heard from again. Some say that he became a human himself. Others say he stands watch over the gates to the Netherworld forever. But everyone agrees that no matter what happened to him, he's out there somewhere, protecting us from the monsters lurking in the shadows. And because of that, we never have to fear the dark again."

Harry saw the figure walk away into the fire, until it could no longer be seen. He shook his head, and the Gryffindor common room came back into view. _Ron might have a future as a storyteller…_ "So…is that where magic comes from, then?"

Hermione blinked, seeming to come to her senses as well. "Don't be silly, Harry. It's just an old fable; obviously something to reassure children that they don't have to be afraid of monsters hiding in the dark."

Ron nodded, stretching. "None of us really knows where magic comes from. But come on…a demon giving people magic?"

A part of Harry really wanted to believe his friends, that it was all just a story. But something just seemed off…"When I had that first dinner at Grimmauld Place, that knife went into Dante's neck."

Ron shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me…that still gives me the willies."

"But when he pulled it back out, there was no wound. It didn't even seem to really hurt him. And didn't he say something like it had happened before?"

"He was probably joking. I doubt that-"

"And in that story," he pressed on, ignoring him, "you said that Sparda might have become a human. So if he did, then maybe-"

"Harry." Hermione's tone was stern, as if he had personally offended her. "We're talking about a fairy tale. A story passed down to entertain is not the same as history; there probably never _was_ a Sparda. Now maybe…MAYBE there might have been a very powerful wizard two thousand years ago. And maybe he protected people from dangerous magical creatures. But-"

"And what if that was Sparda?" he insisted.

She sighed. "Then maybe he was _named_ Sparda. But he couldn't have been a demon, Harry."

"Why not?"

"Where is the proof? Don't you think if that story was real, that in two thousand years witches and wizards might have discovered these gateways to the Netherworld? I've been researching where demons originally came from, but there hasn't been so much as a footnote about any 'gateways' in any book or manuscript I've read."

"She's right, Harry." Ron looked somewhat disappointed saying it, but pushed on. "I asked Bill about Sparda when I was ten. He said they haven't found anything that shows that any part of that story is real. And trust me, Bill _loves_ that one; it was part of the reason he was so interested in becoming a Curse Breaker."

 _Is this how Luna feels?_ The bizarre thought had only just passed through his mind before he pushed it away. "…What about the magic that Dante and Nero use? They don't have wands, they can survive things we can't, and nobody really knows where they came from."

"…There is definitely something odd about them, I agree," Hermione allowed. "But think rationally, Harry. Witches and wizards have been around for thousands of years, and they didn't always think the way that they do now. We've learned more and more about the world and how things work, and that changes the way that we understand it. People can sometimes pass down the gift of magic to their children, but they can't just give it to them."

"And the demon in the forest?" challenged Harry.

"A magical creature is one thing, Harry. You can call it whatever you want. But a creature can't just _become_ a person. And even if they did, they couldn't just GIVE us magic."

"The Sorting Hat," Harry said with dawning comprehension. "This story sounds just like the one the Hat was telling."

Hermione gave a long-suffering sigh. "Yes. Ron's _story_ does sound like the _story_ that the Sorting Hat told us. But even if Dante's father is named 'Sparda', he couldn't be _that_ Sparda. He'd be almost two thousand years old, for starters."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, she might have had a point. If Sparda had become a human, he would have had a hundred years to live at best. And while it was tough to tell, he was sure that Dante couldn't be as old as forty. "…It's weird, though," he said, reluctant to admit defeat.

"It is," she said, a somewhat relieved note in her voice. "We'll get it figured out, Harry."

"Just as soon as we slog through our O.W.L.s," grumbled Ron.

* * *

CHAPTER END

Hoo boy, that took quite a while. Had some personal issues that took up a lot of time, so had to take some time off to work through them. Sorry about the long hiatus! Hope that you're all doing well, and as always, let me know what you thought of the chapter!


	21. Chapter 21: Fools Rush In

Chapter 21: Fools Rush In

 _I'm tired of being ignored!_

Dolores Umbridge tromped through the halls of Hogwarts, setting a direct course for the staff room. She was sick and tired of being treated in such a way; to think that she, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, would have to take such initiative! As she reached the door, she heard the muted sounds of a conversation; to her relief, there was the unmistakable timbre of the Headmaster. _Excellent._ She flung the door open, marching inside.

"…and so she says to the bartender- Oh, hey, Dora! Whatcha want?"

Umbridge grit her teeth. Sitting at the staff table were both people she least liked at the moment; the Headmaster and Dante. And while she had need to discuss things with Dumbledore, she had no inclination to speak with the American. Then, she registered what he'd said. "…'Dora'?" Umbridge bit out.

"Yeah. You wanted somethin'?" the infuriating man said, lounging in his chair.

She breathed slowly through her nose before hitching a smile onto her face. "The headmaster and I have things we need to talk about."

"Well, go for it."

A vein twitched on her forehead. "…These things require some privacy."

"We're all teachers here. Besides, two heads are better than one."

She glared at the headmaster, who was watching the whole scene with polite amusement. "Fine then," Umbridge growled, a smile spreading across her face. _I won't give in to your uncouth taunting,_ she thought before returning to her most polite tone. "Professor Dumbledore, I wish to speak with you about my inspections."

"Certainly," Dumbledore said, smiling. "What about them do you wish to discuss?"

"As you know, my position as High Inquisitor obligates me to examine the other professors here, to determine whether they must make alterations to their course work. Therefore, it is imperative that I be able to inspect _all_ of the professors."

"A very logical circumstance," the headmaster said, nodding.

Her patience broke. "Then why have you been preventing me from inspecting Dante's class?!" she hissed.

" _Professor_ Dante," he began, and she bristled at the polite rebuke, "has been taking his lessons consistently at the assigned times, just as you have, Professor. I have not been preventing you in any fashion from conducting your inspection."

"But all of my lessons are scheduled at the same time as his!"

He held up his hands in apology. "That is a simple but unavoidable side-effect of trying to fit all the courses into a schedule for every year. Some must always overlap, however unfortunate it may be."

"And how is it," she said in her honeyed-poison voice, "that all of our lessons just _happen_ to be at the same times?"

"Coincidence, naturally," he said as he folded his hands together.

"' _Coincidence'_?!" she hissed through her teeth.

"The schedules are drawn up months in advance of the start of term, Professor," Dumbledore said, still infuriatingly calm. "Neither of you had been brought on for your current posts when we were finalizing the schedules. I am not scheming to prevent you from attending his lessons, as you seem to be implying; unintentionally, I am sure."

Umbridge wanted very much to stamp her foot and yell at the old Headmaster. She KNEW he'd done it on purpose! And yet he sat there, hiding behind rules and regulations just to excuse getting what he wanted! However, she was the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and she had every intention of making Albus Dumbledore recognize it. "Of course," she said, reining her anger in. "…Unintentionally. But my duties do compel me to inspect every professor, regardless of scheduling."

"I quite understand," Dumbledore said, smiling at her over his hands. "To get a better picture of our educational standards, it is important to see all of our education."

Dante was leaned back in his chair, observing the proceedings as if he were supremely amused. In fact, she felt an eye twitch as she saw him with his feet directly on the table in front of him. _How uncultured!_

"I am glad you understand," Umbridge said, doing her best to ignore the American. "So you agree that you will fix our schedules so that I may inspect him during a free period?"

Dumbledore's smile dropped slightly. "My apologies, Professor, but I will not do that."

"You're the Headmaster!" she snapped at him. "Surely you have the power to alter the schedule as you see fit; and if you have that power, then you should use it to-"

"Professor."

She halted abruptly. Dumbledore hadn't shouted, or slammed the table, or leaped to his feet. He'd merely said one word as he set his hands down on the table. And yet that one word spoken sternly had resonated far more powerfully than a shout had. Dante was no longer looking relaxed; his feet were back on the floor, and he looked somewhat surprised.

"This is a school, as I am sure you are aware," the Headmaster continued in a soft but commanding voice. She found herself listening carefully despite her dislike for the man, and for a brief moment she felt a sharp stab of jealousy. What she'd give to have the kind of authority that his voice rang with! "We have our students' futures in our hands from the time they arrive to the time they leave, and even beyond that. That is not a responsibility to be taken lightly. It may seem trivial to reschedule times for two subjects for a single day, but that day could be the difference between either a passing or a failing grade for any number of the students involved. And of course, we have our O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. classes to think of; a failed exam for either could crush the prospects of the next generation of Healers, or Curse-Breakers…or Ministry employees," he allowed with a brief smile. "But what if it were more than just a single day? I believe you have currently placed Professor Trelawney on probation, which has resulted in you observing her classes more frequently. Rearranging the entire timetable would greatly disrupt the studies of our charges, especially now that we've almost reached Halloween. Perhaps it would be possible were you not a professor in addition to your Inquisitorial duties…but new posts often take time to adjust to."

She hated Dumbledore. Hated that he was being logical and calm to hide his plots against the Ministry. But she would not let him win. "Perhaps," she allowed, but seethed inwardly. "I shall see what can be arranged. Good day, Headmaster." Umbridge turned on her heel and strode out of the staffroom door. _I'll find a way to catch you out yet, you uncouth foreigner. Mark my words!_

* * *

Dante watched her go, smirking as the door shut behind her. "I think I've made a friend."

* * *

By the time the first Quidditch match was drawing near, Harry felt as if he was on top of the world. The Defense group was thriving, and Hermione had even gotten them a secret way of communicating meeting times (enchanted fake Galleons, which had been a disappointment to Ron as he'd actually thought she was handing out money for a few moments); about the only complaint he had was that they _still_ hadn't thought of a name, due to being so exhausted by the time they were done with their meetings. Cho even seemed to be more willing to speak with Harry, and he found himself looking forward to any excuse to be near her. He was feeling a great sense of pride and defiance by continuing the group right under Umbridge's nose; she'd seemed to be looking for an excuse to get Harry in trouble ever since her confrontation with the Gryffindor fireplace, and yet hadn't had one. He'd been managing good marks in all of his classes (even the occasional Acceptable in Potions, which had Snape fuming), and Defense was becoming the next-best thing to Defence Against the Dark Arts (the real version, anyway, not the farce that was Umbridge's lessons); Dante had kept them on a steady split between planning and action, and those in Harry's Defense group were coming out of the action sessions beaming.

To top it all off, his new training had been revealed, and it was something he'd almost been hoping for, especially since Dante had told him to bring his practice weapon.

"I'm fighting blindfolded?" asked Harry.

They had moved into the Chamber of Secrets proper this time; Dante had said they needed "as much room as they could squeeze outta the place". He'd assumed that meant that they would be doing some sort of mock-combat, and it seemed he wouldn't be disappointed.

Dante smiled, tossing him a red strip of cloth. "You got it. There're a few extras here and there, but that's the basic idea. Plus, this way you'll have a more difficult time decking me in the face."

Harry scratched his head sheepishly. "Er…right. Sorry about that."

"No, no. Serves me right for not expectin' a kid to act like a kid." Harry's eye twitched, but the man seemed not to notice. "Anyway, for this task we're gonna relax the rules, just for you. All warmed up?" Harry nodded. "Good. Put it on and arm yourself."

Harry did as instructed, wrapping the cloth over his eyes and tying it at the back. Once he had, he drew the small blade Dante had given him from his robes. "Okay, now what?"

"You got it on tight? You can't see how many fingers I'm holding up, can you?"

Harry snorted. "Now how could I do that when I'm-" He staggered forward as something hit the back of his head; it took all his concentration just to keep his body upright and his hands gripping the small blade. "Hey!"

"Lesson one," Dante retorted. "And since we're relaxing the rules, I don't have to say when the training starts. Assume that once the blindfold goes on, it's combat time."

"Fine," Harry growled between gritted teeth. "What'd you hit me with, anyway? A rock?"

"That was a finger-poke at bare minimum strength. I didn't actually do more than nudge you; your surprise did the work for me. But you kept your balance, so it's good to know you're not forgetting previous sessions, at least."

Harry didn't respond, edging slowly toward where he'd heard Dante's voice. Knowing how previous sessions had gone (and what Dante had said earlier), he knew there would be some trick to this beyond just the blindfold. Was there going to be some trap laid, or perhaps a sound to overwhelm his sense of direction?

He had to be in range by now. He swung his practice weapon in the direction of where Dante's voice had been, but hit nothing. There was an odd sensation through his body; he felt as if someone was only just behind him. He whirled around, slicing the weapon through…the air.

"You look kinda silly, flailing around like that," came Dante's voice from some distance to his left.

Harry turned towards the voice, and then he felt his legs fly out from under him. He didn't fall for long, however; something caught him and carefully raised him back to his feet.

"It's good to listen to where your opponent is, and if you were fighting a human, it'd probably carry you through. But it's not just humans you're gonna be taking on. If you rely on one sense to do the work of two, you're even more screwed if something is invisible to that sense. So you've gotta use several senses at once. And maybe, just maybe, you'll develop another one to give you the edge you need."

It was the strangest thing; Harry could have sworn that the sensation of someone lifting him back up was only just finishing when Dante had begun talking from several feet away. _Is there someone else here? Lady, maybe?_ He turned away from where he'd heard Dante's voice, trying to see if he could feel something in that direction. _Use several senses, hm? Well, I can't taste my way out of this, so maybe…_ Keeping his ears attuned, Harry took a careful breath through his nose. As he did, he noticed something unfamiliar. The smell was almost as if rotten raspberries had been mixed with old meat. "There's something else here."

"Hey, nice job! You-" Dante broke off, and Harry could have sworn he heard the man's gloved hands clench into fists. "Take the blindfold off. Now."

Harry obeyed at the urgency in his mentor's voice. The instant he could see past the material, he saw motion flicker in the corner of his eye. _Was that something moving? Or…someone?_ As he was getting the fabric off his eyes, he heard something off in the distance. It sounded like some type of electric saw that had activated in a tunnel. "What is it?"

"Try 'what are _they_ '," Dante said to his right. With a casual ease, he drew some sort of firearm from the depths of his coat. "And if I'm remembering right, they're about the best you could hope for when it comes to your first 'test'."

"' _First_ ' test?" He looked down at the small blade he was holding. Suddenly he felt somewhat under-armed. Swapping the blade to his left hand, he drew his wand with his right. _Better, at least._

"Let's just hope you don't have a final exam. Now look alive, kid!" There was the skittering of many legs and a buzzing that, with less echoing as it approached, was beginning to sound like wings. Harry saw the glowing red eyes before the creatures came close enough to be seen properly. When they had, Harry's own eyes widened considerably.

They were bugs, but not any ordinary ones; these bugs were the size of a large motorcycle. There were blue flying ones that were the source of the buzzing; they looked like all the worst parts of a fly, mosquito and a wasp all mixed together. Then there were green ones crawling on the ground; they looked like beetles with the spindly legs of a water strider. And then, behind the rest, there were two red objects bobbing in the water around Salazar Slytherin's statue.

"Are these…?"

"Demons, yeah," Dante finished for him. "Questions later; get ready to fight!"

The insect demons advanced on them, one of the fly-like ones making a beeline for Harry. His eyes narrowed. _Here goes nothing!_ " _Confringo_!" An orange orb of light rocketed at the demon, hitting it with explosive force. The demon didn't even have time to react before it exploded like a water balloon, pieces of it scattering everywhere and covering the floor with a foul green liquid and what looked like maggots. "Eeurgh!"

"You can vomit on your own time, kid. Don't let them eat it!" warned Dante.

" _Eat_ it?" asked Harry in confused revulsion. But one of the green ones advanced forward, stopping at the remains of the flying bug. It began to slurp up the pieces of its fallen comrade, even as the green sludge around it seemed to crystallize and change in colour. As the bug demon ate, Harry could see it growing even bigger.

"Might wanna, you know, _stop it_?" suggested Dante, not even breathing hard despite the sounds of battle from his direction.

Harry shook himself out of his stupor and attacked, sending another Blasting Curse out. This time it sent the demon sprawling onto its back, but didn't actually seem to kill it. He recalled the blade in his left hand, and charged at the demon before it could recover. As its legs flailed in the air, he plunged the weapon downward. He felt the claws of one of the legs rake across his arm, but the blade stabbed into the creature's thorax, and Harry drove it in to the hilt.

As the insect let out a loud squeal, Harry heard a noise to his right. Without looking, he pointed his wand in that direction and shouted " _Stupefy_!" He heard the sound of something falling to the ground, and he withdrew the blade from the creature's underside. To his surprise, there was no visible wound or mark on the creature from its injury; in fact, it was still stirring, and it rolled around onto its feet. Without really thinking, he yelled " _Depulso_!" The insectoid demon flew through the air, colliding with one of the flying blue bugs. Both of them crumpled to the ground, and he pointed his wand at them. A Blasting Curse managed to blow through both of them, but Harry had no time to enjoy the moment, as he was surrounded by three of the blue flyers.

"Don't let them spit on you!" advised Dante.

"Don't let them _what_?" asked Harry as he dodged the claws of his flying opponents.

"Don't let them spit on you!"

"What?"

"Don't let-" Dante broke off and sighed. "You'll figure it out."

" _Diffindo_!" called out Harry, slicing through one of his attackers, but the others were already moving, unconcerned with their fellow demon. They spat at Harry, a gob of what looked like maggots covering him and wriggling around. "EURGH! It _spat_ on me!"

"Oh, no, imagine that, if only I'd warned you."

Forcing his lunch back down, Harry pointed his wand at one of the flying demons. " _Petrificus Totalus_!" he shouted. To his horror, however, nothing happened. "What?!"

"That's not maggots, it's an evil curse," called Dante. "You'll need to shake 'em off if you want to start blasting again!"

"Of all the-!" He ducked under the flyers as they swooped at him, scraping away the maggot-like substance with the dullest section of his handheld blade. "You should've taught us _this_ in class!"

"…Huh. You got a point." There was a rattle of chains, and then a cracking noise. Harry chanced a look over at him and saw that a large block of ice had appeared next to him. There was something large contained within it, but Harry didn't have time to observe much more before he dodged another swoop from his opponents.

 _Flying enemies, flying enemies…what did I do for that lesson?...Right!_ Finally getting the last of the disgusting stuff off of him, he pointed his wand at the closest demon. _Please work!_ " _Aguamenti_!" This time, his spell worked; the jet of water soaked the insectoid demon's wings as it zoomed at him. With the appendages thoroughly waterlogged, the demon dropped from the air, skidding past Harry. " _Petrificus Totalus_!" he said a second time, and this time, the spell succeeded, the last of the flying demons falling to the ground. He looked around, still tense and ready to respond if needed. "…I think that's the last of them."

A shape leapt from the water on one side of the chamber, barreling into the demon under the Full-Body Bind and carrying it into the water on the other side. Harry had a glimpse of something red and snake-like as it crashed into the water and disappeared from view.

"You were saying?" said Dante.

Harry snorted, his breathing still elevated. It was strange; even though this was undoubtedly a life-or-death fight, this wasn't at all like fighting Voldemort had been. This was him against creatures that seemed to feel nothing but hunger. Something about it almost…well, it almost felt…

Another red shape leapt from the water, this time directly at Harry. He had expected this, however, and acted accordingly; instead of trying to leap up over the demon or to its side, he let himself fall backwards, swapping his blade to a reverse-grip. As the creature barreled toward him, he noticed more of its appearance. Its head was devoid of eyes or ears of any kind, merely being a gaping mouth with rows and rows of serrated teeth. Its body looked like a flayed arm, covered in cancerous-looking growths. Its shape made it look less like a snake and more like a fat worm…not that it changed his plan to deal with it. He buried the weapon up to the hilt just past the creature's mouth as it missed him, its momentum carving a gash that trailed all the way to the tip of its tail. Harry had immediately closed his eyes upon his attack, and it was a good thing; he could feel large amounts of blood drench him as his weapon kept cutting, only daring to open his eyes once he felt no more resistance against his knife.

He got to his feet, looking at the demonic worm that had attacked. It gave one last, feeble lurch before dissolving into a yellowish-green muck, which soon disappeared, leaving behind more red stones. To his surprise, he found that some of the blood that had covered him had also transmuted into the same red stones. Absently, he began picking them out of his clothes and pocketing them. "What are these things?"

"Red Orbs. I get the feeling you'll figure out what you need 'em for soon enough. And aren't you forgetting something?" As Harry looked at him, he saw that the man's original gun was no longer in his hands; instead, there was a rifle nearly as tall as he was being pointed directly at him.

"Wait!" he yelled, flinching backward.

 _BANG!_

Harry froze in shock and horror, and yet felt no pain. A split-second later, he heard something large fall to the ground behind him with a splat. Turning to look at it, it was another of the worms, but this one was much larger than its fellow demon had been. He sighed. "There're always more, aren't there?"

"Which is why I'm not deducting points for it; you can't sense 'em like I can, so you wouldn't have known."

"Is that all of them, then?" asked Harry, pulling a small red orb from between his hair and ear. As he did, a small part of him felt an odd emptiness somewhere in his stomach; what was that all about?

"Yep." Harry turned to him. He got a shock as he did, however, as he saw the man was now surrounded by large ice cubes. Deciding to investigate later, he instead watched the man closely. "Now, time to grade your quiz. You remembered lesson one well, you adapted your tactics okay, and you remembered you had a close-range weapon to use. But…" The white-haired man gave him something of a knowing frown. "I think you know what I'm gonna say."

"I lost my focus and one of them hit me," Harry said, showing the wound on his arm.

"Good. That'll get you a few points back. By the way, go grab that green orb; I don't want you wounded in a place like this if you can help it." He motioned to where the other worm had fallen.

Harry turned around to look. Where the demon had been, there was now only a small green crystal laying on the stone. He picked it up, but before he could do anything with it, it leapt from his fingers and collided with his bloodied arm. "What the-?!" But he never finished his sentence; to his astonishment, the crystal seemed to melt, running into the wound. A feeling of relaxation overcame his arm, and the cuts closed instantly. He gasped, raising his arm and shaking it slightly. There was no pain, no soreness; it felt as if he hadn't exercised it a bit in the last two hours, and yet it was just as loose as it had been right after his warmup. "How did…?"

"Yeah, they do that," said Dante in an amused voice. "So, ready for your grade?" Harry turned around to look at him. After a moment, he nodded. "There's a lot more that I think you're capable of, but you did okay. I'd say about…an A. Not a solid one, but still an 'A'."

Harry frowned. "Only an 'A'?"

"…Oh, right, you guys and your weird grading scale. An 'E', then."

"Not so bad, then; I'll take it." Harry looked at the ice cubes, finally deciding to examine them closely. As he did, he gasped. "Are those…?!"

"Well, I can't let you have all the fun! Gotta give everyone else a chance to test their skills." He patted the nearest cube, which had one of the flying insect demons frozen at its center. "They're not exactly durable, but they're about as low on the totem pole as we're gonna get in terms of raw power, so they're the best I can do for a beginner's lesson."

"And how are you going to get them out of here?" asked Harry pointedly.

"I'm glad you asked!" replied the man cheerfully. "'Cause that's the next part of today's training."

Harry groaned.

In all fairness, it didn't take very long at all to get them out of the Chamber of Secrets. It almost seemed to Harry that the tunnel leading in and out of the bathroom enlarged itself to be as wide as necessary to accommodate any travelers; judging from what he'd seen of the magical world so far, that probably wasn't far off. Still, while the tunnel may have been magically altered to expand itself…

The two of them were contorting themselves in awkward ways to try and get around the demon-containing ice blocks. "You couldn't have made them smaller?" muttered Harry.

"Not a lotta options in that dank place. Unless you wanted me to carry 'em around and have 'em vomit evil maggots everywhere."

Harry rolled his eyes, and then suddenly felt his stomach lurch. _Those maggot things…they were ON me…_ He felt the bile rise in his throat. _They…they were…!_ He threw open one of the stall doors and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet beyond.

Dante sighed. "…Well, at least you held it together longer than most."

After collecting himself, Harry washed up. _Okay, calm down. Don't think about it now; you can talk about it later to Ron and Hermione._ He dried his hands, turning back to Dante. "So, what are you going to do with all those?" he asked, motioning to the trapped demons.

"Well, I'd like to use 'em for practice for you guys at some point, but they're not much use for training like this. Don't suppose you know where I could find a buncha cages, would you?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it. Come to think of it…he did know of a place that might be of use, didn't he? "Well, actually…"

* * *

Dante paced back and forth in front of the wall Harry had told him about, concentrating. _I need a place with something that I can use as a cage…I need a place with something that I can use as a cage…_

After his third round, he peeked through a cracked eyelid. A highly-polished door had appeared in the previously blank wall. Dante frowned. _A door suddenly appearing or disappearing in a stone wall somewhere in a castle…this is getting suspiciously familiar…_ Hesitantly, he grasped the handle and opened it.

The room beyond was massive, far bigger than he had been expecting. It was the size of a large cathedral, which did nothing to alleviate his suspicions. Still, there were no twisting and undulating columns in this place, so that was a step in the right direction, at least. Also distinguishing this place was the sheer amount of _stuff_ in it; towers of books and strange broken or marred substances, cracked glass objects, chipped stone busts…it was actually kind of impressive. "Well, guess I'd better get to finding one of those-"

 _ **ba-ba-bump**_

Dante froze. For the second time that day, he felt the telltale pulse of evil power. _Dammit…the sewers are one thing, but there're kids up here!_ He drew his trusty pistols, walking slowly towards the pulse he sensed. It was just ahead and to the left. He took a short breath, and then jumped around the corner, guns raised.

…There was no demon. There weren't even any books that might have been demons in disguise. Just a scattering of what looked like old bones and a tarnished tiara. The Devil Hunter frowned. _…Huh. Weird._ He shrugged, holstering his pistols and turning around. _Now where are those cages?_ He walked away from the wreckage.

 _ **ba-ba-bump**_

He stopped again. "The hell?" He once more drew his pistols, turning around to scan the area. The pulse was coming from the same place; the battered old tiara in the pile of dusty bones. Rolling his eyes, he holstered Ivory and knelt down to look closer at the tiara. It had the look of a treasure that had been magnificent in its day, but years of neglect and dust had made its metal dull and its gemstones worn. "Don't tell me _you're_ the demon," he muttered. He picked up the headwear with his free hand, standing up. "Not really my style, and none of the women I know go for jewelry." He turned it over in his hands, seeing if there was some sort of writing or engraving that would give him an idea of the object's history. Then he frowned. _…What the hell am I doing staring at a dusty old crown like this?_ He reared his arm back. _Let's see if I can land you on that stone head at the other end._

 _ **BUMP**_

This time there was no question; the pulse came from the crown itself. He let go of it and spun around within milliseconds, putting a bullet into it with Ebony. To his surprise, however, the bullet actually bounced off of the small object, shattering a crystal ball resting on a cabinet some distance away. The tiara clattered to the ground, looking none the worse for wear. "Tougher than you look, huh?" He stuffed Ebony into its holster, pulling Rebellion out of his "hammerspace". _I've got more than one trick up my sleeve._ He leapt high into the air, crashing back down with the Devil Arm extended, slamming it into the small crown.

Dante hadn't really expected that to work. So it came as somewhat of a shock when the sword cleaved the little crown in two. It was even more of a shock when there was something like an echo of a scream, and the evil energy faded as if a demon had been killed. The man in red stowed Rebellion away, picking up the fragments of the object he had just destroyed. There was no pulse from the object now, and a small substance almost like blood leaked from the edges of the cut for a moment before it seemed to evaporate.

Dante scowled. The cages could wait. For now, he needed some answers. And he knew just who to ask…

* * *

"Enter."

Dante strode into the Headmaster's office. "Hey, Al. We gotta talk."

"Certainly, Professor." He waved his wand, and the door shut behind the red-coated man. The Devil Hunter paid it no mind, however, as he walked briskly to the Headmaster's desk. "Please, have a seat." He barely broke stride, sitting down in the chair an instant after it had appeared. "May I offer you a sherbet lemon?"

"I've got a present for you, first." He pulled the remains of the crown out of his pocket, setting them on the desk and watching the Headmaster closely. The man's eyes looked at him curiously before moving to look at the pieces. Once he saw them, he froze so thoroughly he did not seem to be breathing.

"Where…did you find this?" he all but whispered.

"Hidden under a pile of junk in a closet. What is it?"

Dumbledore seemed to come awake. His breathing resumed, and he sat in his own chair, picking up the two halves of the crown gingerly. "This is…or rather, _was_ the Diadem of Ravenclaw. It was said to give its wearer insight beyond mortal measure along with clarity of thought in any situation."

"Uh huh. Any clue on why it was drenched in evil energy, or why it made a scream when I had to smash it?"

If Dante had thought Dumbledore was shocked earlier, it was nothing compared to the way he reacted to that statement. He stood up abruptly, looked between Dante and the pieces several times, and then began speaking several strange words while waving his wand over the broken object. After some time, Dumbledore slumped back in his chair, looking exhausted but enlightened. "Ah, of course. So that's what you were after…you managed to outmaneuver me after all…"

"So…a 'yes', then?"

Albus looked at him before casting a stern glance to his office door. He then stared at Dante appraisingly. "…Very well. I suppose there's no hiding it from you. However, what I am about to tell you does not leave this room. Do you understand?" The Devil Hunter nodded. Albus stood up, and walked to where Fawkes was perched. "In your line of work," he began, "I trust you've come across certain individuals who seek immortality?"

Dante gave a hollow laugh. "Yeah. I've seen a few, and they all end the same way; messy."

"Indeed." He gave the phoenix a gentle pat on its head. "Voldemort is one such person. Like others before him, he fears death, and seeks to cheat it any way that he can."

"Did he manage to get a Gold Orb or something?"

"I am unaware of what that is," Dumbledore said.

"Really? With all the stuff you know about alchemy?" He shrugged. "Okay, so it's not that. What, is he trying to turn himself into a demon or something?" He watched the Headmaster closely for his reaction.

"In theory, no, but in practice what he has done is nearly indistinguishable." He turned to look directly at Dante. "With a normal human, once they die, their soul moves on. To where, I cannot say, but it departs the body for its next destination in one piece. With certain Dark magic, however, there is a method to anchor the soul to this plane and prevent it from moving on, keeping the person in this world when they would normally die. The soul is split, and a piece of it hidden away, to ensure that it returns to the living world."

"That sounds like a stupidly bad idea."

"I believe you have the right measure of it. Whatever awaits us beyond this life, I doubt it is to our advantage to confront it with a soul in fragments. And yet people like Voldemort fear that great unknown so much that they resort to this technique."

Dante frowned, grabbing a sherbet lemon while he thought. "But it can't be that common, or he'd have competition." He popped the candy into his mouth.

"The spell that allows it is hideous in both nature and complexity. It also requires, as an essential component, an act of murder."

Dante bit down on the candy so hard that it shattered. "So he can just do that any time he kills someone? How many of these things does he have?!"

"Not any time; the technique is only ever meant to be used once. The act of a soul tearing into two pieces takes such a toll on it that most of this technique's practitioners ended up killing themselves outright."

The man in red stood up slowly. "…Only 'meant' to be used once, huh?"

The Headmaster gave an acknowledging nod. "Yes, you've caught on to it. I believe that Voldemort has gone further than his predecessors in his desperation to avoid death. Another of his…shall we say, 'containers'…caused quite a bit of trouble three years ago." He strode over to his desk again, and opened one of the drawers, removing what looked like a tattered diary that had been stabbed with something.

"Tell whoever did that one that I owe 'em a drink."

"Tell him yourself; you're training him," Dumbledore replied, amusement entering his voice once more.

"Heh. Should've known it'd be Harry." His proud smile only lasted for a few moments before he returned to his line of questioning. "So, he trashed one and I trashed another. How many _are_ there?"

Albus sighed, returning the diary to his desk. "I don't know. I can guess, certainly, and I have been searching for that very answer ever since Harry destroyed the first one. I have reason to believe there is at least one more, given certain clues."

"Hmm." He tapped his foot, thinking. "He probably doesn't want his soul in four pieces, given that it symbolizes death in some cultures, but I've got no clue otherwise. What about the containers themselves? Do they have to be inanimate?"

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. "…Evidence suggests otherwise," he said carefully.

"No need to beat around the neon green bush. I get it now." He grinned. "So it's that snake that Tommy's got."

"That would be my guess as well." To the Devil Hunter's confusion, he almost seemed…relieved? "While it would be inadvisable, for obvious reasons, it would seem that she is indeed a carrier of a fragment of soul."

"Yeah. Who wants their soul piece just wandering off to eat rabbits or something? Hmm…do these pieces have a bond of some kind? Actually, they'd have to, if they're used to anchor the soul in the Human World."

"I believe they do, yes."

"Wait…does that mean that Tom already knows he's down two soul holders?"

"Usually, that would be expected, if there was only one. But my sources tell me he was completely unaware when the diary was destroyed. I am told that when he found out, he was quite…upset."

"I'll bet." He looked at Dumbledore. "You've probably got a lot to go over, but let me know if you figure out where any more are, would you?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. I'll tell Harry to keep an eye out for-"

"No."

Dante stared at the man. "…Come again?"

"I meant what I said earlier. What we have just discussed cannot leave this room." It was very difficult to read him now, but even so, Dante could sense the fear in the other man's words.

"Okay, fine. You tell him."

"I…cannot."

"What? Why?! We're talking about the maniac out to kill Harry, here! Knowing that he's got backups is kind of important!"

Dumbledore was resolute, even at Dante's rising tone. "I have my reasons."

"What, because he's a teenager? He's been through more than anyone his age has a right to be; hell, he almost makes _my_ teenage years look normal! Do you have any idea how hard that is?"

"It is not his age that prevents me from telling him about that."

" _What_ , then?" he demanded, throwing his arms outward. He turned around in exasperation. "What reason could you _possibly_ have for not telling him-" He cut off instantly as a realization hit him; the only thing that could explain every piece of the puzzle. "…He's one too, isn't he?"

There was a long moment of silence. Dumbledore sighed, looking down at his desk. "…You are more perceptive than you are credited for," he muttered, smiling despite himself.

Dante walked back to his chair, flopping down into it. He slumped into the cushions, feeling as if a sudden emptiness had overtaken him. "How?" he managed to grind out.

"You are familiar with the story of his survival as a baby, correct?" Dante nodded. "It is my belief that in his attempt to kill Harry, Voldemort might have created an unintentional repository for a soul fragment within Harry. More specifically, his scar."

"He carved his soul into even smaller pieces by _accident_?"

Albus nodded. "Having already hacked it to pieces by using his attempt at immortality, I believe his soul was becoming unstable; the act of committing murder of a child with the intention of splitting his soul seems to have been enough to shear off a piece of his soul, which latched onto the closest thing at hand. Often times, Harry has spoken of having visions of events happening far away; during these times, he speaks of looking through the eyes of Voldemort himself. It stands to reason that if Voldemort would discover the connection, he may be able to do the reverse."

The man in red held his chin in his hands. "So the visions and their 'connection' is because of that?"

"It seems so."

"And you can't tell him anything because of that?" Dumbledore nodded. "…Look. I get where you're coming from. I do. But you can't just tell him _nothing_. As dangerous as it is for Tom to know what you're planning, if Harry's got no clue either, he's gonna feel like you're hangin' him out to dry!"

"Then what would you suggest?" There was a distraught tone to his voice; clearly this had been bothering him for some time. "On the one hand, he needs to be prepared. On the other, everything I tell him could be turned against him and me by Voldemort."

Dante reached a hand out, putting it on Dumbledore's shoulder. "Al, you don't have to do this alone. I'm here, remember?" He grinned. "And I've got enough excuse to pretend I've come across something in my job. I won't tell him everything all at once, but it might be a good idea to let him in on a little bit all the time. That way he doesn't go off half-cocked at the first sign of trouble."

"…I will take it under advisement."

"Good enough." His grin faded, and he stared at the Headmaster. "But there's one non-negotiable in this discussion. I am **not** letting Harry die."

"I do not wish for him to die either. If only it were that simple…"

"It IS that simple. You find a way to pull that bit of soul out of him without killing him."

"I've been trying." A haunted look came over him. "For every year since I've known, I've been searching for a way. And make no mistake, I am by no means an unintelligent man. But time and again I have been frustrated by failure. There is a way to remove the fragment that I've come upon recently; however, it requires a complicated set of circumstances that allow him to return from death."

"So he still dies, with the only difference being that it doesn't stick. No offense, but that's a terrible plan."

"It is," he sighed. "But it is the best I've been able to come up with. I am still searching for another alternative, but I've come across nothing so far."

"Then I'll find something," Dante declared.

The Headmaster smiled sadly, as if not daring to believe himself. "I hope that you do, Professor. I sincerely hope that you do."

* * *

By the time Dante got back to his room late that evening, Mar was there waiting for him. "Okay, so I've got good news. This world had its divergence at a point I can track, so with a few more clues, we can figure out how to fix what's going on. At least you haven't had a demon attack to worry about yet." He smiled at Dante, who stared back at him with an eyebrow raised. Slowly, the smile slipped from his face. "…You have, haven't you? Where was it?"

"Wouldn't you know? You and yours make a habit outta throwing them at us."

Mar shook his head. "No, and especially not this time. The windbag is off on another world "inspiring" people where he goes, the wet blanket is chasing some ten-legged creature across the M51 galaxy, and the blockhead refuses to move an inch from the world they've set up shop in. So we're too busy to be tossing enemies at you."

Dante snorted. "Oh, yeah? Then what about cursed artifacts?" He hurled one of the pieces of Ravenclaw's Diadem at the sorcerer's head, where it bounced off. Caught by surprise, the other man hurried to catch it, and after a bit of jostling, managed to get a firm grip on the broken crown. "Funny how something like that just shows up."

Mar stared at the crown, utterly amazed. "This…this is the Diadem of-!" He looked up at Dante, and for the briefest of moments there was a look of sheer delight on his face…before it was immediately replaced with a look of indifference. "So you managed to cut a tiara in half. Good for you."

"You knew about this, didn't you?" asked Dante, staring warily at the man.

"What makes you say that?"

"You knew the name, first of all. And second, I never said how I did it."

Mar wasn't looking at him now. "Well, it's not something that could have been done with sheer physical force, so I assumed you must have used a Devil Arm, given that they tend to defy laws of physics that they don't like."

"How do you know about Devil Arms when you're not even from our world?" It was a guess, but he wanted to see how the man reacted.

"I know lots of things." Mar folded his arms, turning his back on Dante.

The Devil Hunter rolled his eyes. "If you say so. I don't suppose you know where the rest of the soul containers for Oldy Voldy are, do you?"

"…I know lots of things," Mar responded, but almost with a note of…disappointment?

"And if you did, you wouldn't tell me, right?" The sorcerer remained silent, but his shoulders slumped slightly. "Just who are you?" Silence. "Whatever. If that's all you got, I could use some sleep."

"Actually, there is one more thing, thanks for reminding me!" Mar turned around. "There's been a question I've been meaning to ask you for some time, now."

"I'm not gonna be your errand boy, so you can forget that right away."

Mar smiled. "No, no, not a favor. Just a question out of curiosity." He watched Dante curiously. "Do you believe in angels?"

"…No, really, what's the question?"

"That _is_ the question. Do you believe in angels?"

Dante snorted. "I would think so; they've tried to kill me enough already."

"No, no, not the Fallen," said Mar, shaking his head. "I don't mean a demon pretending to be an angel. And I'm not talking about what happened on Fortuna, either; that's a human taking a demonic form that mimics an angel. Do you believe in _angels_?"

The man in red stared at the cloaked man. "...You're asking if I believe in beings that would be the opposite of demons, right? Supernatural creatures that would be good, protective of humans, healing instead of killing, that kind of thing?"

Mar shrugged. "If that's how you see them, sure. Do you?"

"So, hypothetically, they would be watching over people, right?" asked the Devil Hunter, his face stern. Mar nodded. "Then where were they when that old fart on Fortuna decided to open the gates to Demonville? Or when Mundus tried to claw his way outta the Underworld? Or when my brother and the bald maniac wanted to take dear old Dad's power?" His expression was hard now, and he all but hissed the final question through his teeth. "Where were they _when my mother was killed_?" There was silence hanging in the air for nearly a full minute following that question.

Finally, Mar spoke. "…So, do you?"

The Son of Sparda scoffed. "What, do I gotta spell it out for you?"

"It would help, yes."

"Fine, then." He glared at the sorcerer. "I. _Don't_. Believe in angels."

Mar gave him a sad smile. "…I see. Well, that's a shame, Dante."

The Defense professor shook his head, turning his back on the cloaked man.

"…Because we believe in you."

Dante whirled around, but the other man was not there. Instead, there was a small object on the floor where he had stood; a single white feather. He snorted. "Cute. But I'm still not buying it." He flopped onto his bed, hoping that he wouldn't have any more odd dreams.

He would be sorely disappointed come the following morning.

* * *

CHAPTER END

...Yeah, this one took a lot longer than I wanted, especially since I wanted to have it out no later than Halloween. I had the greater part of it done, but it just didn't feel complete, and every time I got ready to continue it, personal drama would crop up. ...But you're not here for that, which is why I've saved this bit until the end. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, at least, and I hope to get back to a better schedule soon. Take care!


	22. Mission 05: On the Hunt

**Mission 5: On the Hunt**

 _Hunt down the demon of curse!_

 _MISSION START_

"Come on, then! We want to hear more of the story!"

Sirius hiccoughed, but smiled and continued. "-and so Remus says to me, 'If you're going to go that far, why not just drop the whole thing on it?'…So I did."

His audience at the table, which seemed to be the better part of their eight customers, burst into laughter while Remus Lupin rolled his eyes, trying his hardest to disapprove while smiling. "You do know I was being sarcastic."

"Like that was going to stop me!" He took a swig from his cup, grinning. "And it worked, didn't it?"

"…Somehow."

"'Somehow'? Oh, don't be a stick in the mud, Remus. It worked beautifully, and you know it."

"It happened to work, yes, but you shouldn't make a habit of dropping chandeliers on all your problems…especially when I'm blamed for it…"

"Leaving so soon, Camille?" Kyrie called out as their regular customer rose from her seat.

"I've got work tomorrow, and I'm feeling a bit tired already," she replied with an apologetic smile. "Don't worry, you won't get rid of me that easy. Give my best to the boys."

"Of course. Take care!" As the woman left, Nero came out of the storeroom with several bottles in his arms. "Ah, just in time. Sam and his new friends are ready for another round."

"Again?" he grumbled, setting all the bottles but one on the shelves. "Well, okay, I guess…" He took the remaining one to the table Sirius was seated at, setting it in the middle of several plates of chips. "Have at it, fellas."

"Cheers, Nero!" Sirius called, toasting him with his glass. "Now, where were we…?"

"I believe it was my turn to tell an embarrassing story about you," Remus said matter-of-factly.

"Almost unfair how many you have to choose from…"

"Which is no fault of mine."

Just as Sirius was about to protest, the phone behind the bar rang. "I'll get it," Nero assured them. "Wouldn't want to ruin Remus's fun." He walked to the phone, grinning as Sirius's groan was drowned out by a chorus of cheers. As Remus began his tale, Nero picked up the phone. "This is The Blue Knight. How can we help you?"

"This…this is the right place, yes? You're the ones that…that handle weird things, right?"

"We are. What's your problem?"

"Well…we're not sure, exactly. But ever since last week, we've been having funny things going on around our farm. Things only just built are falling apart, our animals keep taking ill-"

"-and you've had a whole mess of accidents on the part of you and your family," Nero supplied.

"Y…yes. How did you know that?"

"We've seen several cases like it before. Tell you what, if you give me your contact information, I'll get some people sent over right away." He grabbed a large notepad from the bar counter.

"Really?! Oh, thank you, thank you!" He gave Nero his name, number and address, and with a final expression of gratitude, the line closed.

Nero stared at the paper he'd written on, which was covered so thickly in addresses that only a single square inch remained empty. "This is just getting ridiculous…"

Kyrie looked over his shoulder. "Another Nogtail? John won't be happy to hear about that…"

"Let's hope he's still happy enough about us taking in our dear mascot Arion that he's feeling generous." She handed him a sheet of paper and an envelope, and he started writing. "But after the last one, I got the feeling we might have used up most of our goodwill…"

She gave a disappointed nod. "Fifteen cases in eight days; those poor dogs must be exhausted." It was standard procedure to drive a Nogtail off with a pure white dog, and the Ministry kept albino bloodhounds for that specific purpose. But with them being constantly on the job, the canines had to be feeling the strain.

Inwardly, she'd had a suspicion things would be getting wilder as Halloween approached. Not that there was any particular reason, other than the general air of mystery that surrounded the holiday. Nero had joked that they could liven up the bar by parading their new mascot (the kelpie they were sheltering, which she had named "Arion") around the bar, but she was forced to turn it down; the last thing they needed was someone seeing their blue horse and crying animal cruelty out of a well-meaning but false impression that they were spray-painting her or some such.

Nero had only just finished writing the letter when something small and thin collided with the side of his head and fell to the floor. He stooped to pick it up as he heard the faint screech of an owl outside. It was a letter, and from John, no less. He tore it open, frowning.

 _Dear Staff of The Blue Knight,_

 _We've only just got the report ourselves. While I appreciate the prompt notice you've given us in regards to the other cases, we've got several other calls to answer already. On behalf of the Ministry, I'm requesting you take care of this one for us._

 _Sorry about laying my problems on you a second time, but we're stretched thin; twelve albino bloodhounds can only go so far. I'll pay the fee for your services, don't worry; and if you happen upon the cause of all these incidents, you would have our deepest gratitude if you shared it with us (and a bonus waiting for you, as well)._

 _Best regards,_

 _John Lowe_

"That guy acts like it's such a hassle to ask us to do our job." Nero handed the letter to Kyrie to read, crumpling up the one he'd just written. "Looks like we've got some work to do."

She finished reading through it, nodding. "Do you think he'll bother listening when we offer a discount?"

"He didn't last time, so…" He picked up his cello case, and Kyrie grabbed her crossbow. "Yo, guys. We'll be back in a bit; have some hunting to do."

A collective groan of disappointment rose from the table. "But how're we to survive without our brilliant barmaid?!" one man protested.

"Yeah!" "That's right! *hic*" others chimed in.

"Improvise. Have Sam tell you that story where someone thought he was a girl for an entire week." He smiled evilly as the disguised Sirius buried his face in his hands and the men who had been upset earlier now roared with laughter. With a nod to Remus, he and Kyrie took their leave.

* * *

Once the bus let them off at their destination, Nero hefted his cello case over his shoulder. "So, we're looking for a demon, a legit demon, that looks like…what was it?"

"A stunted piglet," replied Kyrie promptly as they trudged along the dirt lane. The farmhouse in the distance was just blocking the sun as it set, lighting the area in a pleasant glow without the bother of sunlight in the eyes. "John said they look more like a pig crossed with a dog, with eyes black as coal."

"And they bring a curse on the farm by suckling a pig, right?" Kyrie nodded at him. "We come across some weird crap on these jobs. Makes me feel right at home."

She smiled. "I hope it's a little less dangerous than that."

"Ah, it's just the one demon, how hard could it be?"

Kyrie opened her mouth in response, perhaps to list off all the reasons it might still be difficult, but a noise cut her off. She went still, as did Nero, as they both listened intently.

It was a noise that would come to haunt them over the next few years, but one that they were as yet unfamiliar with. If Nero had been pressed to describe it, he would have said it had a rumble like thunder somehow tinged with a buzzing and mixed with a distant scream. But quite apart from the sound, he sensed something unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was a sense of… _wrongness_. It was different from when he sensed a demon; that was a pulse of energy that felt like foul air or the smell of blood, and his arm would resonate with it. But this…it was as if something had taken hold of the world and, for a long moment, _twisted_ it somehow. He felt it in every fiber of himself, as if his own body was recoiling from whatever it was.

…And then the moment passed. Nero found himself taking a great gulp of air; he hadn't even noticed he'd been holding his breath. He heard Kyrie do the same beside him. "…What the hell was that?" he said, his voice oddly croaky.

Kyrie shook her head, and a worried look filled her face. "I don't know. Whatever it was, it's very bad. I could feel it."

"You too?" asked Nero, surprised. "If even you could feel it…"

"Do you think it has something to do with the nogtail?"

He shook his head. "I doubt it. But…maybe we'd better hurry up." They began moving once more, striding briskly towards the farm.

Once they'd arrived at the farmhouse, they found a little girl with brown hair waiting for them, clutching a small stuffed teddy. "You're the ones my daddy called, aren't you?"

Kyrie smiled, leaning down slightly so that she was at eye level. "We are. My name's Kyrie; what's yours?"

"Claire," she said shyly.

A slight frown crossed her face, as it did on Nero's beside her. She shook it off, returning her face to a calm state. "That's a pretty name. I have a friend that has the name Claire."

"Are there monsters here?"

Neither of them really knew how to answer that. It was perhaps fortunate, then, that at that moment a voice rang out from inside. "Claire! Come inside and wash up, dear!" With one last look at Kyrie, the little girl pulled the front door open and hurried inside. A moment later, the door swung open again as a woman exited the house. She could only have been the girl's mother; she had the same hair, the same eyes, and even the same direct stare that the girl had possessed. "Sorry about that. You're from the Blue Knight?"

"Yeah," said Nero. "Here to fix whatever it is that's causing accidents."

She nodded. "My husband is waiting for you out by the barn. He'll be able to tell you about everything that's been happening."

"Got it. We'll get this sorted out in no time."

The woman nodded again. She turned to go back into the house, but stopped. "…I don't know what it is that you're going to do, but please keep him safe. Claire thinks something bad's going to happen, and I couldn't bear to look her in the eye if it did."

"We'll do our best," Kyrie promised.

The woman hesitated, but returned inside. Kyrie distinctly heard the sound of a lock and chain being drawn.

"Yeah, we're _real_ popular," grumbled Nero. They left the farmhouse, walking out to the large barn behind the house. Nero blinked his eyes in surprise. "Now that's new…"

Behind the barn, there was a large stretch of land that looked as if was once a field, surrounded by a waist-high wire fence. Every here and there was a semi-cylindrical setup; as they looked, a pig would wander in or out of one every now and then. "They're little houses," said Kyrie, intrigued. Indeed, now that she'd said that, she noticed there was a feed trough at each one; no doubt with water included.

"Like my hog hotels?" A man had walked up behind them; he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, both of which had various stains here and there. His baseball cap, though cleaner, looked just as well-worn. "I rotate them out with the crops. Friend of mine talked me into it a few years ago."

"…Right," said Nero, hoping desperately that they weren't about to get a lecture in farming. "You said over the phone there's been weird stuff."

The man nodded. "Yes, yes…sorry. Could talk for ages about farming, I could. But…" He cleared his throat. "Our cats keep taking ill not long after they've just got healthy again; the veterinarian's flummoxed, says he's never seen anything like it. In the morning I'll put together a sprinkler system the wife's been asking for, and by afternoon it's rusted apart. And today-" He held up a hand, and Kyrie winced; there was a series of lines that looked like uniform burns on his palm. "One of my heating lamps snapped itself right off the wall and almost hit my little Claire in the head. I caught it before it hit her, but I won't have her in danger any longer."

Kyrie looked at him. "But what about your hand?"

"What about it? S'long as my daughter's safe, I don't give a damn what happens to me."

Nero nodded to the man, his gaze softer than before. "Sounds like she's got a great father. Name's Nero; nice to meet you."

"I'm Kyrie," the woman in white said, reaching out a hand to the man.

"Vernon," said the farmer, shaking her hand firmly. "…I must say, I don't really know how this works."

"It's all right," Kyrie said, releasing his hand. "We'll do some investigating around the farm. Nothing personal; just to look for traces of dangerous creatures or the like."

Vernon sighed. "I couldn't find a hide or hair that wasn't supposed to be here, myself, but maybe you'll have better luck." He looked from one to the other. "You need anything, I'll be in the house. Let me know when you're done; I'll be up, no matter the time."

As he left, Kyrie tugged the sleeve of Nero's coat. "Can you sense anything?"

"Yeah, but…you're not gonna like it."

"Probably not. What can you sense?"

"The whole place is covered in a weird kind of demon stink-cloud. There's something here, all right, but I'm gonna have a helluva time pinpointing anything."

"Could it be because the demon has been here a while? Perhaps its influence is twisting the farmstead so that it's more difficult to take out."

"I dunno. Something about this whole thing stinks, and it's not the bacon-to-be," he said, motioning to the pigs wandering about. "…Not that they're all that peachy."

Kyrie giggled. "Well, then, shall we get started?"

They walked the perimeter of the pig enclosure, which took some time. As they did, Kyrie spotted an odd pattern that looked as if two fingers had been thrust into the ground. Several feet away from that odd pattern was another similar pattern, and another several feet from that one. No animal should have had the speed or the gait to make such tracks. It was no wonder that Vernon wouldn't have recognized the tracks as being from an animal.

Nero, meanwhile, discovered something else. The wire fence around the pigs' field was electric, which came as little surprise; however, the power source was another matter. The box that was tied into the fence had an electrical power cord, which was plugged into a power box rooted in the ground. That electrical cord looked as if it had been poked with about half a million tiny needles, but judging by how shiny it was, the box and its cord couldn't have been more than a week old. With a flash of light, the Devil Bringer had appeared over his right arm; he touched his now armored hand to the cord, and flinched slightly as electricity crackled around it. _Whatever did this, they poked right down to the copper. Another half a week, and the insulation would be more or less decorative._ He let go of the wire, and his arm returned to normal. _Never seen a demon do something like this; they'd probably just slice it open. So what's going on here?_

Once they'd rejoined, Kyrie and Nero shared what they'd found. "More questions than we'd started with," said Nero, his arms crossed and a foot tapping as he thought over the information. "The tracks I get. They're probably from our demon piglet. But unless they've got needles for teeth and they chew on electrical cables we've got something that doesn't add up."

"Do you think it could be what John was asking about?" Kyrie wondered aloud. "He said he'd be grateful if we found what was causing the outbreak of this…demonic invasion, or whatever it is. Maybe that clue has something to do with the source of the trouble."

"Hmm…maybe." He looked into the sky; the sun had long since set, and the light in the sky was growing very faint. "One way or the other, we've got work to do. So, what's our plan of action?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, but answered carefully nonetheless. "Judging by the tracks, the demon's got an incredibly long stride. Put that with them usually chasing nogtails off with dogs, and I'd guess they've probably got a good speed and jumping distance." She paused, and Nero nodded for her to continue. "If it is that fast, it's probably a bad idea for me to corner it, but we'll need you to be the one that catches it. So I'll have to try to flush it out, but keep at a distance; hopefully then you'll have enough room to capture it." She looked at him, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Well, how did I do?"

"You stay as safe as you can, we've both got a task to do, and I get to test my reflexes. Sounds like a good plan to me," he said, smiling at her. "Show me where to go and we can get started."

Without any other hints of where their quarry might be, Kyrie decided to start at the end of the field closest to the farmhouse and sweep away from it; if nothing else, they could hope to chase the demon away from the people in the house to keep them out of danger. She waved at Nero, who had decided on using Ascalon against their foe when it came time for his part of the plan.

 _Something feels wrong, Sir Nero,_ said Ascalon in his head. _I cannot say how or where, but something seems amiss._

He nodded, scowling. _Yeah, I know. But I don't really know what we can do to prepare for it other than get this over with as quickly as we can._

 _Agreed,_ piped up Karkinos. _Events tend to sort themselves out once you've killed the more confusing things._

He didn't even bother to respond. Kyrie had begun her search, and he wanted to be as ready as he could. He saw her lightly kick the side of one of the pig dwellings; a hog gamboled out, and though he couldn't confirm it at this distance, he was sure it was grumpy at being woken up. Still, a surly swine wasn't what they were after. Kyrie moved to another of the little structures, and he watched her repeat the process. She did this once more to finish out the first row, and once she had there still wasn't any sign of something out of the ordinary.

 _Perhaps it's fled already,_ suggested Ascalon.

 _Better damn well not have,_ Karkinos growled. _It's been too long since I've tasted blood. I still say you should have used me._

Nero rolled his eyes as Kyrie continued her process. _I start using you, and these porkers are gonna find their homes sliced apart when they wake up._

 _So? What fun is there in a battle if there isn't a little leftover destruction for your efforts?_

 _Well, that's probably gonna come out of our pay, for one,_ retorted Nero as an incredibly large sow barely peeked out at Kyrie before returning inside. _We might not be here forever, but I'll be damned if we rack up the kind of debt that Dante tells stories about._

 _You never let me have my fun,_ the Scourge of the Treacherous Depths growled. _Just a little carnage would be fine, they've got more than enough livestock._

 _Would you stop chattering? I need to be ready for-_

There was a loud rattling from a hog house that Kyrie had progressed to near the center of the field. There was a loud squeal from the pig within, and then there was another squeal; this one, however, was less shrill and sounded similar to a human scream. There was a slamming noise, and then a shape shot out of the hog house in his direction.

 _Here we go!_ His arms shifted, taking on their armored form. He concentrated, and golden spears began to rain down, two at a time. They impacted to the side and just ahead of the demon, funneling it directly to him. _That's right…nowhere to go but through me!_ His eyes narrowed, and he braced himself as the demon closed the distance. _One chance; gotta make it count!_ As it drew within twenty feet, his Devil Trigger exploded outward, and his spear disappeared as the spectre over him launched its arm at the demon. _Gotcha!_ The golden arm opened its palm…

…And missed.

 _Shit!_ He hurriedly retracted the arm, but the creature was feet away. It leapt up, but the retracting spectral arm knocked it back down again, and the nogtail slammed like a battering ram into Ascalon's shield. Nero's feet skidded backwards slightly, but he recovered as the demon wobbled drunkenly to its feet. His Devil Bringer having returned, he hit the staggered demon with a vicious uppercut. The instant before it connected, however, he noticed something odd. _Its eyes…they're…_

The demon launched into the air. Two spectral spears appeared, skewering the mockery of a piglet. It fell back down, and in a flash of light, Ascalon appeared in Nero's right hand; a half-second later, the demon was impaled lengthwise on the Devil Arm. It gave a shudder, and moved no more.

Nero frowned as Kyrie ran up to him. "Hey, Kyrie! Grab me one of those water bowls, could you?" She nodded, bringing him one of the plastic bowls; the Order Songstress was panting for breath as he placed it under the demon's mouth. A small trickle of blood drained into the bowl for several second before stopping, and Nero's frown deepened.

"That was…excellent," Kyrie said as she fought to regain her breath. "I didn't think we'd…get it done so fast."

Before their eyes, the demon's body dissolved, shedding only a few more drops of blood before it was gone. Those drops formed into red crystals, which flew into the Devil Bringer almost immediately. The blood already in the bowl, however, remained liquid. "We should take this back to Sirius. The blood of a creature that can curse a farm probably shouldn't be left lyin' around."

"…Shall we tell Vernon the job's complete?" Kyrie asked, watching him curiously. "Or should we try for our bonus?"

"I don't think I could let this sit," he muttered as Ascalon was dismissed. "Something's off here. Right before I killed it, its eyes looked kinda…glazed. Little tough to see now that it's gettin' dark, and with the whole black eyes and all, but it was there."

"But why would it have glazed eyes? Just because I woke it up?"

"No…more than that. It only bled a little even though I turned it into pork shish kebab. And some of that blood was the demon blood we're familiar with." He picked up the bowl, studying for a moment before it, too, was absorbed into the Devil Bringer. "If I had to guess…somethin' musta been sucking its blood." He blinked as he remembered the previous discovery. "Those needle marks on the power cord…whatever it was, was suckin' electricity _and_ blood."

Kyrie racked her brains for any demon that might match that profile, but nothing came to mind. "I don't think we've come across anything like that yet. Something else that escaped the Underworld?"

Nero shrugged. "You got me. I can't…" He stopped as he realized something. The nogtail was certainly dead; having dissolved like any killed demon made that perfectly clear. But then…why was there still the feeling of demonic energy blanketing the farm? With the originator dead, the curse should have been fading. Unless…"Shit."

Kyrie slung her crossbow from her back into her hands. "What's wrong?"

"Whatever it is, it's still here. And we're surrounded."

The sound of soft clapping greeted their ears. Nero drew Blue Rose as they both turned to see an individual approaching them. Unless he was hearing wrong, there was an odd sort of clicking happening just out of sync with the clapping. "Bravo!" the individual said, its voice oddly raspy. "Bravo. You've taken out the nogtail, and you've put the clues together already. Excellent!"

Nero pointed the revolver at the individual. "Who the hell are you?"

The individual got closer to them, and to their surprise, began to glow slightly; a green haze of light illuminated their features to give them a better look at the new arrival. It appeared to be a woman with very stringy hair, wearing a peacoat that seemed to glitter oddly, especially around the buttons. Just below the coat were a tall set of boots that, Nero realized with narrowed eyes, were turned backwards. "Why, I'm the one that sent you the invitation, of course. It took some time to arrange this meeting; that irritable Ministry kept cutting in. But now here you are, and we can finally meet face-to-face. I am the incomparable Rashaverak; no doubt you've heard of me already."

Nero and Kyrie glanced at each other before returning their attention to the woman. "…No," they said in unison.

She glared at them. "What?! You must have! 'Servant of The Seducers'? 'The Infernal Infestation'? 'She-Who-Crawls'? Any of these ringing a bell?"

"Did you need something?" asked Nero in an irritable voice. "I don't give a damn about some puffed-up demon that waltzes in outta nowhere. Do something or screw off."

She gave a furious hiss, and Nero saw her body shimmer in an odd way. It wasn't the light; for a split-second, her entire body seemed to writhe in a very unnatural manner. "How rude! And here I was hoping we could get to know each other better. Just for that, the girl gets my parting gift first. Enjoy my little experiments; I'm leaving."

"Hey!" roared Nero, but the glow stopped instantly. As his eyes were trying to adjust, the woman seemed to simply dissolve into nothing. His armored arms began to glow much more brightly as he summoned Ascalon in a flash of light, but she was nowhere to be seen. All that was left of her was the boots; as he looked at them, several large bugs began to crawl out of them, making chittering noises. Nero holstered Blue Rose and yanked the cello case off of his back, throwing it open and grabbing Red Queen from within in a smooth motion. He revved the sword and slammed it down on the boots at the same time the case hit the ground, setting them and the creepy crawlies ablaze. A small collection of red orbs glittered as they zoomed into the Devil Bringer.

"Nero…" came Kyrie's worried tone.

He whirled around. The chittering was all around them now, and the ground itself seemed to wriggle as hundreds upon hundreds of the same insectoid creatures advanced on them. However, as Nero revved the sword again, they all stopped, staring at the two humans. His eyes darted back and forth, studying the odd creatures. They all looked like miniature crabs with bluish claws and fangs, the latter of which were nearly as tall as the creatures themselves. All of them seemed to have pulsating yellow tumor-like growths dotting their bodies, and their eyes were glowing a dull orange.

"Well, come on!" he challenged, revving Red Queen again. "Not the first time I've played pest control."

He saw a large portion of the swarm of insects gather into groups, converging into odd shapes that slowly rose into the air. He took a step back, confused, as they formed into three large clumps as tall as him and Kyrie. They were different, now; each shape looked slimier, with shifting, shell-like plates circling around them.

One of the shapes tumbled sideways suddenly, three crossbow bolts sticking out of it as it did. Nero glanced at Kyrie. "What?" she said, slightly defensively. "If they're not going to make the first move…"

"Hot damn, do I love you," he said, beaming. He swung his blade down full-force into the form closest to him, but to his surprise it bounced off. "You guys have been takin' lessons from that G-freak in the last place. Well…" His Devil Bringer shot forward, the hand wrapping around the vaguely human shape. He clenched it, and there was a loud squishing noise; hundreds of red orbs were sucked into his arm as the few dozen remaining tumbled to the ground. "Everything's got a weakness anyway."

"Don't suppose you've got a flamethrower?" Kyrie called over to him as she jumped backwards; the clump of insects she'd attacked was up again and swiping awkwardly at her, the crossbow bolts jiggling around where they'd impacted.

"Fire won't work on the big clods!" he called back, wiping his hand on his trousers. "Try this!" In a flash of light, the modified "Spark Shot" appeared in his hand. As soon as Kyrie had swung the crossbow around to hang on her back again, he tossed her the weapon. "You've got four shots, and whatever you do, don't hold the trigger down all the way longer than two seconds, or it'll burn your hands off."

She caught the firearm, holding it away from herself slightly. "…I'm having second thoughts on-AH!" She ducked under another swipe from the mass of insects.

"If you want, I can take it back," he offered as he sliced down onto some of the non-clumped up creatures.

"Never mind!" She clutched the weapon rigidly, pointing it at the mass of creatures still advancing on her. She pulled the trigger, and there was a deafening crackle of thunder as a miniature lightning bolt leapt from the prongs of the weapon. There was a slight sucking sound as it arced around the mass of insects, and a split-second later, there were several rapid pops as every insect in the group exploded, greenish blood splattered in a ten-foot radius from the center of where the group had been, covering Kyrie in foul-smelling ichor.

Nero glanced at her, trying to figure out whether to be sympathetic or amused. "So…you reconsider again, or-"

She gave a much put-upon sigh as roughly half of the blood covering her condensed into red orbs and rolled off her. "…When we get back, _you're_ doing laundry."

He winced. Doing laundry had been a daunting task ever since Sirius animated the washer and dryer as a prank on Nero; after that, they kept "biting" him with their doors if he so much as stepped into the laundry room. They seemed to like Kyrie, though, and to his slight satisfaction, they hated Sirius even worse than him. As a result, Kyrie had volunteered to take over laundry…until now, it seemed. "And Sirius says I'm the cruel one…" He was derailed from this train of thought, however, as another of the large globs of insects rose up from the remaining swarm and advanced on Kyrie.

This time, she took several steps back before firing again. Again, a miniature lightning bolt leapt to one of her foes, and just after the thunderclap the insects that composed it exploded again. This time, however, she was well out of the way of the gore.

"Don't suppose I could get that back?" asked Nero as several insects swarmed at his feet. Before he could rev Red Queen again, they all jumped on him. "Ouch! Ouch ouch ouch! DAMMIT!" he yelled as the little bastards bit him by the dozens, their needle-like teeth poking into him. "I'll show you!" He tried to draw out his demonic power in a Devil Trigger explosion, but to his surprise there wasn't enough energy to do it. "You leaching little shits!" He stuck Red Queen to his back, hurriedly smacking at the bugs all over him. "I suddenly feel a rush of sympathy!" he called out.

"Still doing laundry!" Kyrie called back.

He grumbled as he finished swatting off the last of them. "Well, I tried."

There was another thunderclap as Kyrie fired again, but this time the mass of bugs collapsed suddenly just before she pulled the trigger, and the bolt of lightning went far over them. "No! I missed!" At the edge of the property, she saw the bolt impact a tree branch, setting it aflame as it snapped off and fell to the ground.

Nero looked around. The bugs were all advancing on them again, and none were clumped up anymore. How were they supposed to exterminate them now?! _Wait…why did they rise up before? They did it right after I…oh!_ He hurriedly revved up Red Queen while hopping backwards, and the sword began to rumble with pent-up energy. "How 'bout a little HEAT?" He slammed the sword down and pulled the trigger again, scorching a line of the insects. As he'd hoped, almost all the insects converged into groups again, this time forming a total of three, the couple dozen remaining backing away from them. "Wish we had a giant newspaper. But for now…!" He grabbed one of the insect piles with his Devil Bringer just before it was fully formed, and squashed it as he had before.

"One shot left…" whispered Kyrie, aiming for the middle of the column of insects nearest to her. This time the lance of lightning struck true, the column erupting into a fountain of greenish blood. "Nero, it's empty!" she shouted, tossing it back to him.

He caught it, reabsorbing it into the Devil Bringer. "Well, not empty, it's more like the capacitor can't handle more heat until I rewire the-" He leaned out of the way of a swipe from the shambling mound of insects. "Right. Later." He replaced Red Queen on his back and drew Blue Rose. "I'm sick of squashing you by hand. Let's try this!" He funneled power into the pistol as he leaned out of the way of the swipes from the clump of insects. Once it reached its maximum, he pointed it directly at the center of the gathered bugs and fired. The bullets splattered into the pile, but thankfully didn't punch through the other side. He leapt backwards, spinning Blue Rose for a second before pointing it at the clump of insects, which now had a red glow peeking out from within it. "Bye-bye."

 _BOOM!_

The explosion cooked the humanoid assembly of insects and several feet around for good measure. "Last one!" he called out, revving Red Queen and smashing it down onto the dozen or so insects not gathered into a large shape, roasting them. To his surprise, however, the last pile collapsed a few moments later. "The hell?! Pick a form, guys!" The bugs began to scatter outwards.

 _Quickly, Sir Nero! I have a Devil Trigger ability you can use; grab your beloved and take to the air!_

 _It's just…never mind!_ He rushed over to Kyrie as he hurriedly reattached Red Queen, scooping her up in his left arm as Ascalon's shield formed. He leapt up, and the shield shifted to wings as he Devil Triggered. Instead of gliding down slowly, as he had with Karkinos, the wings kept him aloft as jets of light flowed out of the bottom of them, pushing them up even higher. He flung his right arm outward, and Ascalon's spear formed in his hand. **"No escape!"** he roared, hurling the spear into the ground. A large, brilliant shockwave of energy burst from it as it impacted, radiating outward and overtaking the fleeing bugs. They exploded as the light touched them, but the wave kept expanding for several seconds, knocking over two of the hog houses as it reached its full diameter; the hogs that had suddenly lost their shelter fled, squealing in fear. The wave of light faded, and the spear flew back up into Nero's hand. **"…Damn. Gotta remember that one."** They descended slowly, and he set Kyrie down once they'd reached solid ground. His Devil Trigger ended, and his appearance returned to normal as he desummoned Ascalon. A rush of red orbs flew into the Devil Bringer, and he gave a sigh of relief. "Well, guess that about-"

"What the hell's going on out here?!" yelled a familiar voice, a flashlight waggling back and forth as Vernon ran up to them. "I heard gunshots and thunder. What are…you…" He slowed to a halt, staring in shock. "Good heavens…" His flashlight illuminated the scorch marks dotting the grass, the leftover green blood, the knocked over hog houses. "…What happened?" he asked faintly.

Before either of them could answer, there was a loud screech. They turned in the direction of the tree branch, which, to Kyrie's relief, had been sputtering out rather than catching any further. However, that relief was soon squashed as a form leapt over the branch, rising up and stalking in their direction after it landed.

Despite the dying flames barely illuminating it, the form was horribly, horribly familiar.

"Hunter!" Nero yelled, reaching his arms out to call Ascalon into them. However, nothing happened, and a second later, the glow of his arms went out. "What the hell?!" _Hey, Ascalon! Need you!_ Silence met his thoughts. "Shit." He drew Blue Rose, and the Hunter leapt, closing the distance to mere feet away. Close to, Nero could see that it was different from its fellows that they'd encountered in Spencer Mansion; this thing was covered in blood-covered tumors, some of which were obscuring its right eye, and its left arm was larger than its right, with bigger claws to match. "You don't belong here," he snapped. "Go to hell!" He fired, and the impact of the shot sent the creature sprawling; however it recovered incredibly quickly, and leapt at him again. He fired at it as it was in the air, the bullets punching through the creature's brain. Nero sidestepped the corpse as it fell to the ground with a meaty thud. A second later, its skin began to melt before their eyes, and it vanished in seconds.

There was more screeching, and this time several shapes raced at them from where the other one had appeared. "Run!" Kyrie shouted, raising her crossbow.

"...But…" began Vernon.

"GO!" Nero snapped, shoving him away. His feet, seemingly acting on instinct, took him in the direction of the house. "Just what the hell's happening?!" he yelled as he fired again, taking down one of the Hunters. He hurriedly ejected the empty shells from his revolver, bringing it back to aim at their foes.

"Did they follow us?" Kyrie shouted back as she put two bolts into a rushing Hunter, the last one missing.

"How could they? We're the only ones that dropped in on the Order!" He fired, but was taken aback as the Hunter he'd aimed at managed to dodge his shots. "Slippery bastards…" He fired twice more, but missed both times. "Oh, this is ridiculous!" He ejected the shells and snapped the cylinder back closed, but had to dodge as the Hunter leapt at him with its claws aiming for his neck. He rolled under the attack, springing back to his feet. The Hunter screeched at him, and began stalking towards him.

 _WHUMP!_

The Hunter froze instantly, and Nero looked at it, confused. It fell forward, its head folding forward as it did. Something had cut through its spine. And once it had fallen, he saw what it was; Vernon was holding a shovel, with the head covered in blood. "We told you to run!"

"I won't let them get to my family!" he shot back.

Nero turned, opening fire on another Hunter that was advancing on him, but as he did, another leapt past him. "Vernon, look out!"

The man swung his shovel downward, but the Hunter leapt over it, landing behind him. He whirled around, but the shovel cut through empty air as the monster dodged backwards. He ran at the creature, holding the shovel over his head, and the Hunter leapt up, slashing at him with its left claws. There was a thud as the shovel fell, and Vernon collapsed, clutching his right arm. "AGH! My ARM!" he bellowed, writhing in agony.

"Vernon!" shouted Kyrie. She plugged all of her last three crossbow bolts into the Hunter near her, and she turned to Nero. "Vernon's hurt!"

"Dammit," Nero hissed, running between Vernon and the last Hunter. "You're gonna pay for that one!" With a powerful pulse in his arms, they both glowed brilliantly again. _About damn time!_ The Hunter leapt at him, but his right fist caught it before it could strike him; the spectral golden arm grabbed the Hunter, and he slammed it into the ground once…twice…three times! "You're DONE!" he roared as he slammed it into the ground the last time, and there was a crunch as he did. He released the monster, and there was a pathetic whine before it began to dissolve.

Kyrie and Nero ran hurriedly to Vernon, who was cradling his right arm. Kyrie gasped as she saw it; the Hunter's claws had cut the man's hand off right under the wrist at a slightly diagonal angle, and it was bleeding terribly. _If only I had those green herbs; but it's only the blue ones I have left._ "Here…we need to stop the bleeding on that…Nero, give me your coat, then go to the house and call an ambulance!" As he ran to the house, she did her best to apply pressure that would stop Vernon's bleeding; by the time Nero came back out, she'd already used his coat to cover the injured man.

* * *

It was some time later that the ambulance took Vernon away. They'd collected his severed hand, but the paramedics couldn't tell them for sure whether or not he'd be able to have it reattached. Nero didn't hold much hope; while it had been a clean cut, there was no way the Hunters' talons had been anything resembling "sterile".

Trying to explain things to Vernon's family was a nightmare. Claire had caught glimpses of what happened, but of course her mother didn't believe her. Nero offered to pay Vernon's medical bills, but his wife got the family car ready, taking Claire along with her without saying a word to them. Kyrie tried to talk to the little girl as she got into the car. "Claire? Your daddy is-"

"Go away!" the child shouted at her. "I hate you!" Her mother buckled her into her seat, and with one last look at Nero and Kyrie, she jumped into the car and drove off in the direction of the ambulance.

Nero sighed as the vehicle left them in the dust. "Yeah…we're _real_ popular." He heard a sniffle, and he turned to Kyrie. Tears were streaming down her face, but she didn't seem to notice. "Hey…don't let it get to you, okay? He's gonna make it."

"We were supposed to protect them," she said softly, not looking at him. "They trusted us to protect them, and…and…and we…!" She closed her eyes, her head drooping down.

Nero sighed. "Kyrie…I know it hurts…"

"She could lose her father!" she sobbed, her shoulders shaking. "I don't…I don't want anyone to lose a parent like…like we…"

Nero felt his throat tighten, as memories of the parents that had raised them both flitted across his mind. "Listen," he said somewhat hoarsely. "We did everything we could. It isn't like back then."

"But-!"

"But nothing," he said gently but firmly. He put a finger under her chin, raising it up so that they faced each other. She opened her eyes, her beautiful hazel orbs wavering with tears. "If we hadn't done anything, it wouldn't have just been him that was injured. They might not even have survived if we hadn't stepped in. Plus, we wiped out all those messed up bugs and the nogtail; that should keep them safe from demon attacks in the future."

She hiccupped, blinking to clear her unshed tears. "It's just…" She sighed, her lip trembling. "It hurts, hearing that."

"Better them alive to curse us than dead and quiet."

Kyrie bit her lip, and then immediately threw her arms around Nero. He returned her embrace, and for a time, neither one of them said anything. They just held each other, trying to comfort each other after a horrible night.

Finally, to his disappointment, Nero had to be the one to release their embrace. "…C'mon. Let's head back." They made their way back to the nearest bus station; they'd barely gone ten feet before Kyrie brushed her hand against his. Smiling softly, he took it. Neither spoke, but neither needed to.

* * *

Sirius was dozing in a chair when they returned, but at the least he'd taken his potion before he'd nodded off; his features were still those of his "Sam" identity. Nero yawned. "'S been a long day," he said as he did. _By the way, where the hell did you run off to?_ , he asked Ascalon within his head.

 _Hm? What do you mean?_

 _When we were…ah, forget it. We'll talk about it tomorrow._ "Time to hit the hay; maybe we can close the bar tomorrow."

Kyrie shook her head. "I'd rather have something to keep me busy, I think. But thanks for-"

They both jumped as the fire flashed green, and John's face appeared within. "Ah, good, you're back," he said.

Sirius jolted awake. "Don't you dare put that hat on my…!" He stopped as he saw the head in the fire. "Oh, hello."

"Sorry to contact you so late, but I thought you might get back around now." He looked around at them. "First, I'd like to thank you on your behalf. I'll drop off your pay on Saturday; I'm planning on stopping in for a drink."

"Hey, we'd be happy to serve you!" Sirius said, grinning. He blinked, looking between Nero and Kyrie. "…You guys all right?"

John gave a sigh. "I heard what happened to the Muggle man through my sources. I assume that's what is bothering you?" They both nodded. "Well, I don't know if this helps, but I've pulled a few strings to redirect him and his family to St. Mungo's; don't worry, we've got procedures for their memory. I can't promise anything, but I would say there's a better chance of him regaining his arm there than at a Muggle hospital."

"Even if it works, it'll take time," said Sirius quietly.

"Very true," John said, looking just as tired as the rest of them. "But I'm certain he'll live regardless. I've also sent someone to take care of your handiwork; looks like you had a rough one."

Kyrie gave John a small bow. "Thank you."

"The way I hear it, I should be thanking you. The Muggle Healers said that Kyrie did an excellent job of first aid."

"We found out what was causing the rash of nogtails," she said in a strong voice.

"Oh?" John looked intently at her; he seemed a lot less tired now. "Please, tell me."

"There were a bunch of mutated creatures that aggravated the nogtail, and we believe they were the cause of pushing the other nogtails towards farms as well. The creatures were…maybe half an inch big. They looked like crabs, and it seems they fed on blood and electricity."

Sirius frowned. "They almost sound like chizpurfles…but they're not anywhere near that big, and they usually don't attack creatures. I mean…you occasionally pick them out of Crups' fur, but drinking blood from a nogtail?"

"Speaking of, we saved you some," Nero said. "Can you bottle it up or something later?"

"Erm…sure, yeah. Just don't spill any in here, all right?"

John frowned. "Are you sure that's all? That Muggle had his hand severed cleanly, and that's not something you'd get from either nogtails or chizpurfles."

Nero sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Okay. A demon showed up."

The man blinked. "Okay, fair enough. You're right that I wouldn't believe you."

"Told ya so."

John shook his head. "In any case, we can always talk it over more thoroughly over drinks. I get the feeling I'll need at least two." He gave them a wry smile. "Well, I suppose we could all use a good night's rest. Take care of yourselves." He nodded to them, and his head disappeared, with the flames vanishing soon after.

"See you in the morning," Sirius said sleepily, trudging in the direction of his room. He paused, and then turned to them. "…If you wanna talk about it, just let me know, yeah?" They nodded, and he left.

Kyrie gave a yawn of her own, holding her hand over her mouth. "Ah…well, I suppose we shouldn't be far-oh!" she gasped the final word as Nero picked her up in his arms. She smiled at him. "You always were good at raising my spirits."

"We're in the perfect place for spirits; thought you could use a pick-me-up."

She chuckled softly, pulling herself a little closer to him as they retired to their room. _This feeling…maybe things will turn out okay after all._

* * *

MISSION COMPLETE

RANK: A

SAVE / NEXT MISSION

ENEMY FILE

 **New!** Rashaverak

A Greater Demon that takes the form of a woman. While she clearly opposes the Devil Hunters, her motives remain a mystery.

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 _1/8_

 **New!** Corrupted Chizpurfle

\- These magical pests have been twisted by Rashaverak into demonic creatures by forcing them to feed on demon energy. While small, their numbers are quite high; a typical swarm numbers roughly a thousand.

\- These demonoids have swelled in size by feeding on demonic power. While still small, hitting them with a firearm is now possible.

\- Their mutation process has given them a thirst for blood as well as magic and electricity. If they jump on you, they will drain your magical powers (Devil Gauges). Wiggle the Left Analog Stick to shake them off.

\- If they are threatened with fire, they will instinctively clump together, forming rough human shapes covered in strange shells. While impervious to fire and sword attacks in this form, they are vulnerable to your Buster attacks.

 _4/4_

* * *

Oh, is it 2019 already?...Yeah, been a while, hasn't it? But here's a new chapter, and should be back to a normal schedule now! Hope you've all been doing well, and whether you liked this chapter, hated it, or have a rant for my extended absence, I'd love to hear about it! Until next time...


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